Behind Bars
by Bec-Bec
Summary: Lyle frames Ms. Parker for murder, and guess who comes along as the local sheriff...Jarod! Will Parker finally allow him to free her from her prison, both literally and figuratively? Post IOTH. Chapter 7 just posted.
1. A Lovely Turn of Events

Disclaimer: I don't own the Pretender…despite any delusions my current Pez high has given me. Would you like a Pez? The characters are not mine and I'm not making any money out of spending hours of my day obsessing over them. In the event that you feel like suing me for using the characters, I will merely plead insanity due to overconsumption of Pez. So again, I ask, would you like a Pez?

Second Disclaimer: I liked my first one so much, I though I'd write another…not really. Anyway, I've borrowed lines from the following episodes /movies of the Pretender: "The Pretender 2001," "The Island of the Haunted," "Unforgotten," "Gigolo Jarod," and "Someone to Trust." It should be noted that these episodes/movies are not mine. I never wrote them nor did I have anything to do with their development or creation. My apologies for using someone else's work.

Summary: Lyle frames Ms. Parker for murder, and guess who comes along as the local sheriff, that's right, Jarod. Will Parker finally allow him to free her from her prison, both literally and figuratively? Post IOTH.

Note: I'm writing another fiction at the moment…or starting to write one…that deals heavily with dates throughout the series. I'm trying to prove just how old Ms. Parker and Jarod are, when Catherine Parker was really murdered, etc. Those of you who watch the series closely will notice how the DSAs and other things don't always match up. Any dates that you have to offer will help immensely! 

Behind Bars

By Bec-Bec

A Chapter On Its Own (Merely because I'm not sure if I'm continuing this or not.) 

****

A Lovely Turn of Events

"Sis, help me." That's what Lyle had said over the phone, or rather, rasped over the phone at two o'clock in the morning, and she had been stupid enough to believe him.

"Excuse me, when do I get to make my phone call?" Ms. Parker said bitterly from behind the confines of prison bars at the Blue Cove police department.

A stout officer answered, "Well missy, as soon as we finish filling out this paperwork here and hand it over to the sheriff, we'll see about letting you have that phone call."

Ms. Parker gave the man a menacing glare. However, the man was unfazed. "Until that time, would you mind telling me why we found you at the site of a murder?"

"I'm not speaking without my lawyer," Ms. Parker practically spat at him.

The officer shrugged and walked back out of the holding cell room.

Ms. Parker closed her eyes and leaned her head against the bars a bit too quickly, causing them to make a slight bonging noise and send a shooting pain through her head. She stood back up and rubbed the spot on her head before clasping two of the bars between her hands and shaking them wildly. She knew that it wasn't going to help her get out any quicker, she was just using it as a way to let out her pent up aggression.

"I really need your help…please…" Lyle's voice had seemed so full of pain, so honestly hurt. Perhaps she was just a sucker for a person in need, just like Jarod.

Jarod. The thought caused her to shake the bars even more viciously. 

She hadn't heard from Jarod for almost two months. No clues, no phone calls, nothing. She had half expected the phone call earlier to be from Jarod; no one else would call at such an ungodly hour. But no, instead of Wonder boy it had been her bastard of a brother, Lyle.

"I know you don't have a reason to trust me, but I really need your help." He had been near tears…if he ever really cried. 

Help, hah, that was a laugh. The sad thing was, she'd gone. She'd left her home in the middle of the night to help her brother and where had it gotten her? Prison. But then, she'd always misplaced her trust in the people who least deserved it…hadn't Jarod tried to tell her that before?

Her movements paused for a moment. Jarod trusted her and yet she wouldn't allow herself to trust him. Trust was such a rare thing to come by, and really, it was all either of them were looking for…trust, and the truth.

__

"Trust your Inner Sense, Ms. Parker, I know I do." He'd said that to her. He'd stood in front of her, pulled the gun pointed at him from her hand, and then given it right back. Why had he done that? 

His trust of her was so implicit. He'd known that she wouldn't stop him from searching for his mother on the island. But how could he know something about her that she didn't even know? How did he always know?

__

"Maybe it's supposed to be that way." That's what he'd said. Maybe…maybe…NO. 

She resumed shaking the bars and this time added in a swift kick at them, not allowing her thoughts to travel in that direction.

There was absolutely nothing special about her bond with Jarod, nothing at all. It was all a game, just a game. She was the hunter and he was the prey, that's all it was…was. Where on earth was he now? She couldn't hunt him down if he wasn't around to be hunted.

The knob on the door into the room turned and the door started to open.

She halted her bar shaking, gave one more swift kick to them, and crossed her arms over her chest, defensively, waiting to see what the lame-brained cops would say this time.

The door opened enough for her to see the backside of an officer standing in the doorframe talking to someone in the other room…it wasn't a bad view either.

Her eyebrows arched at the idea that one of the police officers at this crummy station actually had a body worth looking at.

Then the man turned all the way around, and Ms. Parker's mouth dropped open.

The officer entered the room followed by the stout officer from before.

The new officer turned to the other man, after staring at Ms. Parker for a moment. "I thought you said she was aggressively upset, she looks rather tame to me."

The stout officer shrugged, "She was thrashing around in here a few minutes ago, sheriff, I could hear her all the way in the other room."

Two months, she had been looking for him without one clue, and there he was, standing in front of her at the Blue Cove police department, while she was behind bars. It was almost ironic that instead of her catching him, he had caught her…in a way.

Jarod winked at her and she was about to snap back a retort about his Lab Rat-ness, when she realized that while the other officer was in the room, it was probably a better idea to play the part of the prisoner meeting the police chief for the first time. But, that didn't mean she had to be civil.

"I suppose you're the famed sheriff I have to meet with before I get my phone call," Ms. Parker did not hide her disdain at the situation.

"That would be correct. Hello, I'm Sheriff Wilson. The deputy here informed me that you were found at the site of a murder, minutes after a phone call was made to 911. Would you mind telling me what you were doing there?"

"Responding to a phone call."

"And why did you have a gun with you?"

"I'll answer that once I've spoken with my lawyer."

"Very well." Jarod turned to the stout deputy. "Andy, would you mind making sure the paperwork is finished?"

"Right away, chief," Andy answered as he left the room.

The minute the door closed behind him, Ms Parker turned a hateful expression at Jarod. "It's so nice to know that all this time I haven't heard from you, you've been playing Andy Griffith of the Mayberry P.D."

"Andy Taylor," Jarod corrected with a broad smile. "I've got cable TV."

"I'm so glad you've found TV Land," Ms. Parker said sarcastically. "Where the hell have you been, Jarod?"

"It's so nice to know you care, Ms. Parker. However, I don't believe you're in the position to be asking any questions." Jarod gave her his usual cocky smirk.

Ms. Parker narrowed her eyes angrily. "We'll see about that after I put in a call to the Centre."

"That's if you get to make your call. It would be a pity if all of your paperwork got lost and we had to fill it out all over again."

"You wouldn't." Ms. Parker's eyes widened.

"Oh, yes I would…but not if you decide to be cooperative and answer a few questions for me."

Ms. Parker studied his face for a moment and found a dead serious expression there. She sighed and dropped her arms to her sides, losing her defensive stance. She stared at him until she couldn't face looking into his eyes anymore and then ducked her head, ran her fingers through her hair and sat on the little cot in the holding cell. "What do you want, Jarod?" she asked as she stared at the floor.

"To help you, of course."

"And why would you want to do that? I'm in jail, isn't that what you've wanted all along? To see the people at the Centre brought to justice?"

"Did you know that justice is blind, Ms. Parker?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Ms. Parker asked as she turned her head to look at him.

Jarod shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing, I just like reminding you of all of the wonderful things I find out when I'm outside of the Centre. Now, tell me exactly what happened."

Ms. Parker gave an exasperated sigh, but answered Jarod's question anyway. "I got a phone call at two o'clock this morning from Lyle. He said he needed help. So, I went."

"To help Lyle?" Jarod said skeptically.

"Yes, Jarod, unfortunately I was naïve enough to believe he actually needed help. When I got there, I found the body. Lyle wasn't anywhere to be found so I was on my way out, when the cops showed up."

"Why would Lyle want to set you up for a murder?"

"Sydney once said that we took sibling rivalry to another level." Ms. Parker gave a mock half-smile. "I should assume that he set it up to get me out of the way."

"Out of the way so that he could do what?"

"Find you, of course. What else do we spend our time doing?"

"You really should find a hobby, Ms. Parker, it's rather satisfying. Have you ever gone fishing?"

"No, and I have no desire to." Ms. Parker became annoyed again.

"Your loss," Jarod continued. "Why would Lyle want you out of the way to find me? I haven't sent you a clue in two months; you have no leads on where I am, nothing at all."

"Why do you think, Jarod? The longer you're uncommunicative, the more likely it seems that you've either vanished, or that one of us is helping you evade capture," Ms. Parker hissed angrily.

"Temper, temper, Ms. Parker. There's no reason to be so upset."

"Upset! I am locked in a jail cell for something I didn't do, while I'm being interrogated by you, the Wonder Rat," Ms. Parker bit out at him. "I think I have every right to be less than civil."

"You underrate how much a kind and giving nature will get you."

"Well, why don't you enlighten me, Lab Rat, what exactly does a 'kind and giving nature' get you? Useless followers who think you're a hero?"

"No, it gets you friends," Jarod remarked knowingly.

"I don't need any friends, Jarod."

"That's right, Parker, you don't need anybody. Am I right?" Jarod said sternly, knowing he was upsetting her, but that seemed to be the only way he ever got through to her, by making her boiling mad.

Ms. Parker stood up and stalked menacingly over to him, not that it would do any good, she didn't have a gun and she was still behind bars while he was free as a bird. What a lovely turn of events. "Shove it, Jarod. I'm not going to stand here and listen to you go on and on about my lonely sad life. I live my life my way, and the minute I'm out of this hell hole, I'm gonna track you down and-"

Jarod cut her off. "Ms. Parker, you're forgetting who's got all of the power in this little situation you're in. Right now, we play the game my way, and if you don't sit back down and gather yourself together, I'll have you charged for verbally assaulting the police sheriff. It won't look good to the court." Jarod winked at her again.

Ms. Parker's cheeks flushed as she gritted her teeth to keep herself from lashing out at him for his mocking gesture.

Jarod could see the fire in her eyes and almost laughed in his folly, but felt it best not to push her any further.

"I'll give you a few minutes to cool off, then I'm coming back and we'll finish our little discussion."

"Can't wait," Ms. Parker replied coldly as Jarod left the room.

****

__

"Maybe, if the scrolls were real, we could have found out what our future would hold." Parker had seemed so close to a turning point when he had last spoken with her, but here she was throwing her usual verbal barbs at him. How come every time he came close to luring her out of her defensive shell, she ended up crawling right back in and making her armor even stronger? What had happened to the little girl that had given him his first kiss?

"She grew up," he answered his own thought aloud. 

But, why did that mean she had to change? How had her father corrupted the sweet little girl he had once known?

__

"How can you still trust him?" he had once asked her. Perhaps trust was also blind, though, he couldn't recall seeing a statue of trust with a blindfold anywhere. Yet, he already knew trust was blind, in a way, because he trusted Parker. It was risky to trust your huntress, he knew that, but somehow, he trusted her anyway. He could tell that if push came to shove, she would help him…eventually.

__

"Trust your Inner Sense, Ms. Parker, I know I do." He'd meant that when he'd said it. Some part of his mind rationalized that for all of the times he had showed his trust in her, eventually, even if it were only subconsciously, she would begin to trust him for once. At least, that's what he hoped.

Now, here she was in prison, framed by her own brother, and it still seemed as though she was siding with the Centre. When would she learn that the Centre couldn't be trusted? When would she learn to trust him?

Jarod swiveled in his chair, rubbed his temples in frustration and stood up, leaving his office to try once more to help his huntress out of the latest Centre mess.

****

Ms. Parker's things had been taken from her when she was brought in. Right now, she desperately wished she had her cigarettes. She hadn't smoked them in over a year, but she always carried a pack just in case something shocked her nerves enough to push her into the need for an artificial comfort. Being framed for murder by her brother and locked into a jail run by Jarod was definitely cause for a cigarette. She would have asked Jarod to give them to her, but knowing him, he probably would have just gone off on a speech about how they were giving her lung cancer and she really wasn't in the mood to be lectured on the dangers of nicotine addictions. They could have at least offered her some coffee though. It was four o'clock in the morning, and the lack of caffeine in her system was beginning to have its consequences.

She rubbed her eyes wearily as her thoughts again turned to things Jarod had said to her in the past.

__

"How did we end up like this, Parker."

"Like what?"

"Alone, searching. It's ironic because we both want the same things: Someone to care about, someone to care about us. Do you think we'll ever find that kind of love in our lives?"

She'd had that love once, with Thomas, and they'd killed him because of it. After that she'd vowed that she would never love another man…so why couldn't she stop thinking about Jarod?

She began pacing the length of her cell.

Why did she let him get to her that way? He loved getting a rise out of her, and she still let him rile her up every time they talked. It was almost as if she couldn't deny him the pleasure of seeing her pissed off. His pleasure even upset her more, which only made him all the happier. She kicked the bars again as she came up to them, before turning around and walking back in the other direction.

No, she didn't care about Jarod, not at all. She wanted to see him suffer, she wanted to see him in pain…but then how come she could never bring herself to shoot him?

She had reached the bars again, and gave them another wild kick. This time, however, she hurt her toe. She cursed Jarod, as though it were his fault, as she limped over to the little cot and sat down.

She hung her head as another memory came to mind, a time when Jarod had asked her to trust him rather than her father and Lyle.

__

"And you think you can trust what they say?"

"As opposed to trusting you? That's kind of like jumping out of the fire into the fire, isn't it?"

"You think you know the truth about your father and Mr. Lyle and who killed your mother, but the fact is, you only know what the Centre wants you to know."

"What do you want from me?"

"The same thing you want from me, a little trust."

"I have to go."

"Be careful, Ms. Parker, remember what your mother used to say, trust can kill you or set you free."

He was right. Damn, Jarod, he was always right. 

Over the years, the Centre had lied to her just as much as they had to Jarod, if not more. The only reason she knew any of the truth behind their lies was because Jarod had helped her find it.

She muttered another curse under her breath just as the door to the room opened again and Jarod stepped through.

"So, Ms. Parker, have you calmed down yet?"

"I don't remember the last time I was calm, if I ever was, but I'm not going to 'verbally assault you'…to your face, anyway," Ms. Parker still sounded annoyed, but managed to contain her anger as she faced him from her position on the cot.

"It's so nice to know we can be honest with one another…or rather, it's nice to know you're being honest with me for once."

Ms. Parker closed her eyes and shook her head. "I think that's what makes me the least calm, Jarod, knowing that you've always been honest with me." She opened her eyes to find him staring intently at her. She looked away quickly. "What do you want from me, Jarod?" she asked as she focused on the wall opposite her.

"The same thing you want from me, a little trust."

She spun around quickly, to look at him, as he repeated what he'd said to her in the past. He always did that, tormented her with the past. "And what would you do if you did have my trust, Jarod? It wouldn't change anything."

"If you trusted me, I'd throw a parade," he laughed to himself.

"Be serious, Jarod. Tell me, what would you do if you did have my trust?"

Jarod frowned. "I'm the one asking the questions here, remember?"

Ms. Parker stood up and walked toward him, hiding her slight limp, the pain in her toe had subsided. "Bullshit, Jarod, answer me."

The problem was, she had caught him by surprise. He didn't know how to answer that question.

Ms. Parker stopped walking when she reached the bars. She was standing right in front of Jarod, arms crossed over her chest, looking at him hard in the face. This time, he turned away from her gaze.

"That's right, Wonder Boy, you have no idea. I trust you and you have no idea what to do with my trust."

Jarod's eyes widened as he turned back to look at her.

Ms. Parker realized what she'd said and kicked at the bars again, forgetting she had hurt her toe before. She grimaced at the pain but said nothing, refusing to look Jarod in the face.

"You do trust me," Jarod said in surprise.

Ms. Parker kept her gaze focused on the floor, as she spoke harshly. "So what? Like I said, you have no idea what to do with my trust because it doesn't change a damn thing."

"But, Parker-"

She cut him off as her head snapped back up angrily. "Forget I said it, Jarod, it doesn't mean anything. The word 'trust' lost all meaning for me years ago."

Jarod didn't respond.

Ms. Parker shook her head and turned away to walk back to the cot.

His voice just above a whisper, Jarod spoke as he left the room, "Everything means something."

By the time his words had registered and Ms. Parker had turned to face him again, he was gone.

****

Jarod sat in his office staring intently at the report on Ms. Parker, without even absorbing what it said. Parker trusted him. Actually trusted him. Him, the human Lab Rat. He never expected that, what was he supposed to do now? He was completely unprepared for something like this. Half of him wanted to sweep her in his arms and kiss her, and the other half wanted to yell at her for taking so many years to figure out who she should trust. What was he supposed to do now?

__

"…I've always felt-I've always known that there was something more to our lives than I run and you chase." There was so much more to their lives than that. But she had crushed his attempts to forge a new relationship in the past, what was different now? Like she said, it didn't change a damn thing…unless she had finally reached her turning point.

Anxious to talk with her again, he finished his once-over of the documents in his hands, signed them, and left his office quickly.

****

__

"Everything means something." What had he meant? What did her trusting him mean?

He'd left. He always did that, pulled a vanishing act or hung up the phone, and then he would just disappear…again. 

Ms. Parker dug the heel of her shoe into the floor. Where had he run off to this time? Was he going to come back? She began kicking the heel of her shoe into the floor angrily. She actually wanted him to come back. She despised him so much, and yet… 

She kicked her heel into the floor harder.

__

"We've been through a lot, you and me, from when we were kids at the Centre to the last couple of days. I know that rarely our allegiances have been the same, but I've always felt-I've always known that there was something more to our lives than I run and you chase."

"Maybe we do what we have to just to get by in this life, Jarod."

"Maybe we both deserve something more."

What was it that they deserved?…Trust? They already had that. They had it before, even if they hadn't verbally stated it…She had always trusted him, and she knew he had trusted her. 

What was it they deserved?…Love? No, love was weakness. She couldn't love anyone.

__

"Just-Just forget what happened on that island. Forget that moment of weakness. Turning points only come when you've got something to turn to."

He had offered her something when they had been in that limousine. He had offered her a different life. He had offered her his heart, hadn't he?

Her grip on the edge of the cot tightened.

__

"Sorry this isn't the different ending you were looking for, but it's just the way the damn story goes."

"It's a wonderful thing about life, Ms. Parker, if you change the story, the ending is up to you."

Damn him.

She released the edge of the cot as she felt the metal beginning to dig into her hands and stood up abruptly, beginning to pace the length of the cell again.

She wanted to smack him in the face…and then she wanted to kiss him. 

She wanted to hit him over the head…and then she wanted to hug him.

She wanted to shoot him…and then-

The door opened and Jarod stepped into the room again, looking slightly bewildered.

"Your paperwork is finished; you can make your phone call now."

"Jarod, what does trust mean?" Ms. Parker hissed. Jarod said nothing. "Answer my question."

"Why? It doesn't change anything. Trust doesn't mean anything, remember?" Jarod said sternly.

Ms. Parker slid her hand through her hair. "Maybe it does," she said harshly.

"Like what?" Jarod said, his voice tight, yet with an undertone of pleading.

"I don't know, Jarod. I have no idea what the hell it means, just that it means something."

"What does it mean, Parker?" Jarod growled, "Only you can tell me what it means. Does it mean that you're going to call the Centre? Does it mean that we continue this stupid game of 'I run and you chase?' What does it mean?"

Her head spun as she tried to decide what exactly she was supposed to say, what she should do. "God damn it, Jarod, why do you make everything so hard."

"What are you talking about? I'm not the one who's made all of your choices for the past five years. You've only got yourself to blame for everything that's gone wrong for you. So, you tell me, Parker, how does your trusting me change things?" Jarod continued in his menacing voice.

"I don't know! I-Have-No-I-dea!" she kicked the bars with each syllable, and collapsed to the floor when she had finished talking, completely out of energy from their verbal tirade.

A glimmer of concern crossed Jarod's eyes at the sight of her crumpled on the ground, obviously in pain, but he stopped it from going any further. Only Parker could make the choice to change her life. Only she could define what her trust for him meant.

"Get some sleep, Parker," Jarod said, his voice absent of all emotion.

"No. I want to make my phone call," Ms. Parker said absently.

"Hold on, I'll let you out so you can use the phone."

"No, let me use your cell phone." She looked up at him.

He looked confused.

"I don't think you want the other officers to overhear what I'm going to tell them."

"Fine." Jarod pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and handed it to her through the bars. Ms. Parker's fingers brushed his hand as she took the phone, and they exchanged an awkward look.

Jarod turned to walk away, but she called him back.

"Stay here, I think you should hear what I tell them."

He was going to reply, but she already had the phone to her ear. Not in the mood to fight anymore, he crossed his arms over his chest and stood with his back against the wall, watching her. If she was calling the Centre, he might as well hear what she was telling them so he knew what he was up against when it was time for him to run again.

The other end of the phone call must have rung for quite a while because no words had left Ms. Parker's lips yet. Finally, the silence was broken.

"Lyle, you bastard, I'm going to make you pay for this big time. Love Ya." She ended the call.

"Parker, you just wasted your phone call on the man who framed you for murder, what are you doing?"

"Getting payback." She stood up and handed Jarod his phone. "You want to know what it means when I trust you, it means we do each other a favor. Here's the deal, you get me out of here, and I'll make sure the Centre has no idea you've been playing Andy Griffith right outside their front door."

"Andy Taylor," Jarod corrected. "And what kind of favor is that for me? I was going to be out of here in a couple of days anyway."

"Jarod, please, just get me the hell out of here."

"No." Jarod's anger returned ten-fold. "Parker, why should I do you anymore favors? I've already done so much for you. I've given you information about your past, things that belonged to your mother. I've given you things you never would have found if it hadn't been for me and I have gotten absolutely nothing in return."

"So? You're the hero around here, the hero never gets anything." Ms. Parker's anger also returned.

"You're wrong, the hero gets a thank you."

"Is that what you want, Jarod? A thank you for all of your good deeds? A thank you doesn't change a thing."

"Ah, like your trust doesn't change a thing. It seems you were right, Ms. Parker, trust means absolutely nothing. Nothing at all," Jarod turned to leave.

"Don't you dare walk out that door, Jarod."

Jarod stopped but didn't turn to face her. "Why shouldn't I? I've got no reason to stay."

"The hell you don't. Why do you think I called Lyle instead of the Centre?"

Jarod didn't answer and the room fell silent.

Ms. Parker laughed bitterly after a long silence. "Genius Boy finally has nothing to say. Damn you, Jarod. Do you have any idea what you've put me through over the years? Do you even realize what you've done to me?"

"It wasn't anything you didn't deserve. Besides, it was all just part of the game. It's all just a game, Parker. That's all it ever was, right? You shoot at me; I give you the flu. You keep me from my mother; I compare you to the Wicked Witch of the West. It's just a game." He was still facing the door, his back to Parker.

"You're right, Jarod, it was just a game, but it's time to raise the stakes." Her voice was serious but not angry.

"What do you mean?"

"Jarod, the Centre's rules changed after Carthis. If I don't bring you back and Lyle does, I'm gone and I don't mean that in a temporary way. You said it before, Jarod, 'the first one to the answers wins' and I sure as hell am not going to let Lyle win. So, we have to win."

"We?" He was afraid to turn around and look at her because he had no idea what he'd find. If she was mocking him, he couldn't handle looking her in the face. If she wasn't…

"We," she stated firmly. "It's time to change the ending to our story, but I need you to help me do it."

"What do you mean?"

"You want me to trust you, I do. So, I'm ready to prove it to you. I'm not going back to the Centre. These games with Lyle are getting too serious. When I'm out of here, I can either go with you or go out on my own, it's up to you. But either way, I'm gonna take them down. They've stolen too much from you and me over the years; I can't let them keep doing that. I only have one question for you, and then, if you want, you can leave."

"What is it?" He wasn't sure if he should even hope that she meant half of what she said.

"Two months ago, you said we'd been through a lot together, and we have. You said that you had always known there was something more to our lives than you run and I chase. There is something more to our relationship than you run and I chase, Jarod, but I need to know what it is. So, what is it, Jarod?"

Jarod was glued to the spot he was standing in. His mouth couldn't even form a response to that kind of question. Was she serious? Did she honestly mean every word that was falling from her lips?

At his lack of response, the rage inside of Ms. Parker boiled up again. She spoke with increasing anger. "You know, it figures you would do this. I pour my heart out to you in the middle of this goddam prison and you've got absolutely nothing to say to me. Fine, Jarod. Go to hell."

She turned away and walked back to the ugly little cot. In the midst of all of her anger, a single tear drop managed to find it's way from the corner of her eye and trickle down her cheek, she wiped it away quickly only to have it followed by another one. He had made her cry. "Bastard," she muttered as a steady stream of silent tears streaked down her face.

Jarod shook his head to himself, sadly, as he heard Ms. Parker mutter under her breath. She did mean everything she had said, and he, like an idiot, was as unresponsive as a comatose patient. In his head, he agreed with her comment, but out loud, he tried to remedy the situation. He turned to watch her silent form curled up on the little cot.

"We're friends, Parker, very close friends who rely on each other more than either of us could ever have realized or understood."

There was silence for a moment, before Ms. Parker spoke.

"Is that all?" she asked quietly as she sat up slowly, wiped the tears from her face and turned to face him.

"I don't know, Parker, there are times in the past when I've wondered that myself. I suppose, in some small way, we're family…the only family I've ever really had anyway." His voice was low and serious.

Ms. Parker hung her head slightly. "So, you think of me as a sister." Her voice was soft with a hint of sadness that did not go undetected by Jarod.

"Do you think of me as a brother?" He asked the question slowly. He wasn't about to offer more than she was willing to give in return.

She shook her head softly before replying. "No."

Jarod waited silently for Ms. Parker to work out their relationship in her head. He knew what he wanted…wanted so very much, but he wouldn't even allow himself to hope for such a thing without knowing for sure that she wasn't going to reject him or turn away coldly, as she always did. 

The silence became almost deadly.

"Parker…" Jarod broke the silence, but didn't say anything more than her name, letting it linger in the quiet room.

Ms. Parker glanced at Jarod and then dropped her eyes back to the floor. Her voice was just barely above a whisper. "Why is it that the one person that I've been trained to distrust, to hate, to capture, is always with me during the most difficult moments of my life?"

"Maybe it's supposed to be that way," Jarod answered back softly, just like he had when they had sat in front of Ocee's fireplace on that fateful trip to Carthis.

"Would it have been different if I had kissed you then?" Her eyes were still focused on the floor as though it could provide all of the answers she had ever looked for. "Would it all have changed if I had given in right then?"

"Given in to what?" He said sadly, afraid that she might never come to terms with anything she felt for him.

Again, she shook her head softly. "I'm so tired, Jarod." 

She'd never answer him, so why should he even bother. "It's Sheriff Wilson. Get some sleep, Parker. It's not worth the hassle, just get some sleep." He backed away from the cell dejectedly, his voice, again, without one note of emotion.

Ms. Parker despised the emptiness of his voice, and it was apparent in the way she suddenly burst out at him, turning to face him in full fury. "Don't talk to me that way, Jarod. I have gone through some pretty terrible things in my life, things that could have smashed me into a million pieces, but I can stand anything as long as I never have to hear you speak like you don't even know me."

"Why the hell does it matter how I speak to you, Parker? I don't mean a thing to you," Jarod raged.

Ms. Parker practically spat every word at him, over-extending every monosyllable, as she stood and walked toward him. "Yes-You-Do." For a moment emotion kept her from speaking, then she continued in a low hiss. "You know you do. You smug sonuvabitch. Why else would you torment me? Why else would you never go away? You knew deep down that no matter what happened I cared about you."

Jarod turned away from her harsh voice. He still spoke in a diction that lacked all emotion. "Cared or Care?"

Ms. Parker's fury continued. "Care. You know, Jarod. You know that. I know you do." Her voice finally calmed down as she clasped the bars between her hands. "You know." She was standing right in front of him now. "Jarod, look at me."

He turned to look at Ms. Parker and found a sad expression on her face.

She bit her lip and then spoke again. "You know."

The empty look in Jarod's eyes brought on a new set of tears, which she tried to blink away. She stood her ground firmly, not allowing the tears to stop her from facing him.

Tentatively, Jarod reached up a hand through the bars, placing it on the side of Ms. Parker's face. He cupped her cheek in his palm. Wiping away a tear with his thumb, he asked, "Parker, do you know?"

She gave a small nod, "Yes."

Jarod's countenance softened, and his eyes became warm. "That's what I needed to know Parker. My knowing that you care and your knowing that you care are two very different things."

"So, what do we do now?" Ms. Parker asked softly.

"We blow this popsicle stand."

Ms. Parker laughed gently at his terminology.

"What, did I not say it right?" Jarod asked.

"What am I gonna do with you, Jarod?" Ms. Parker said softly.

"I've got plenty of ideas, Parker, plenty indeed," Jarod smiled widely.

Ms. Parker raised her eyebrows, "Then you better get a move on."

Author's Note: This is not anything like what it started as. Originally, this story was meant to broach the topic of Ms. Parker and Jarod's ages. Apparently, that will now become a different story. What can I say, this wrote itself. My other story, which I have to write soon or I'm gonna miss my January 3rd posting date (Ms. Parker's birthday), will have to start out some other way. Anyway, I hope it was an enjoyable read. I kept rewriting certain sections because they kept digressing into what I refer to as "smarm hell," where the characters become mooshy gooshy caricatures of themselves. It's been a struggle to maintain any semblance of how Ms. Parker and Jarod would actually act, but overall, I'm pleased with the general effect of this story. Please send me a review and tell me what you think. Reviews make my day! Love Ya All! Buh Bye!


	2. The Dynamics of the Chase are Changing

Disclaimer: I don't own the Pretender…despite any delusions my current Pez high has given me. Would you like a Pez? The characters are not mine and I'm not making any money out of spending hours of my day obsessing over them. In the event that you feel like suing me for using the characters, I will merely plead insanity due to overconsumption of Pez. So again, I ask, would you like a Pez?

Second Disclaimer: I liked my first one so much, I though I'd write another…not really. Anyway, I've borrowed lines from the following episodes /movies of the Pretender: "Keys," "Island of the Haunted," and "Gigolo Jarod." It should be noted that these episodes/movies are not mine. I never wrote them nor did I have anything to do with their development or creation. My apologies for using someone else's work. 

Summary: Lyle frames Ms. Parker for murder and guess who comes along as the local sheriff, that's right, Jarod. Will Parker finally allow him to free her from her prison, both literally and figuratively? Post IOTH.

Note: I'm writing another fiction at the moment…or starting to write one…that deals heavily with dates throughout the series. I'm trying to prove just how old Ms. Parker and Jarod are, when Catherine Parker was really murdered, etc. Those of you who watch the series closely will notice how the DSAs and other things don't always match up. Any dates that you have to offer will help immensely! 

Behind Bars

By Bec-Bec

The chapter that follows the previous chapter (Why use numbers? They're so conventional, and Parker and Jarod are anything but conventional.)

****

The Dynamics of the Chase are Changing

Ms. Parker paced her holding cell impatiently. Jarod had been gone for over an hour. Where was he? Why was it taking so long?

She stopped for a moment and stared at the spot she had been standing in when she had last spoken with him. Her mind ran over what happened, marveling at it.

She had finally done it. She had finally told him how she really felt, finally succumbed to the weakness…or rather, to trust. Trust…she trusted Jarod…there was no denying it now. She had submitted to his trust in her and in return had been willing to give him her own trust. She had vague feelings of abhorrence for the thought that trusting Jarod made her weak, but the thought came none the less. After all, she had been bred by her father to avoid showing emotion because emotion was an undisguisable sign of weakness.

She laughed to herself mournfully, what would her father have thought of her now?

She remembered how he had addressed her when she had once confronted him with one of the more hideous truths about her past that Jarod had given her. Jarod had showed her the medical report from her mother's beating and, confused by what it implied, she had spoken with her father. Instead of outwardly disproving it, he had accused her of letting her emotions overcome her.

__

"I'm disappointed in you."

"You're disappointed in me?"

"Don't tell me you believe this crap."

"But I remember that Thanksgiving, that fight that you had, and a few months later she was dead."

"Don't let your emotions run away with you, I taught you better than that."

Yes, he had taught her to be the hard formidable woman she was, but at the same time, he had managed to crush her heart over and over with the lies he had told her. She couldn't even remember the last time something other than a lie had been directed at her from her father. But then, the last time they had spoken, he had hurled himself out of an airplane…after she had found out he lied about even being her father.

__

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I've read the scrolls, Angel, and I'm returning them to the sea. It's the only way to stop the Parker madness, the madness that started the Centre."

"What?!"

"The scrolls are real, so is the pain they inflicted, especially on your mother. I know that now, I know that. It's time to fulfill her wish and send this evil back where it belongs. It's controlled our family for too long."

Ms. Parker shook her head sadly, she wanted to believe that he had jumped for the right reasons, but given his past track record, it wasn't an easy thing to believe. Yet, some part of her still trusted the man she called her father, some part of her always would because it was something she needed to live. It was a dependency that she could never quite break no matter how harmful it was…no matter how much of the awful truth uncovered itself and showed her the horrible things that he had done.

Ms. Parker resumed pacing the cell. She hoped Jarod knew what he was up against by choosing to trust her, by choosing to care for her. And, for her own sake, she hoped that she wouldn't hurt him or herself too badly as they tried to overcome their grim past…or more directly, her grim past. 

She had done some pretty terrible things in the past, and she had let herself be used by some of the most despicable people. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, her trust in her father had often cost her dearly. She hoped that, now, it wasn't going to cost her Jarod.

Jarod had warned her so many times that trusting her father was risky…but then, having anything to do with the Centre was risky. Risks were just a part of her world. Her newest risk would be trying to form any sort of rewarding relationship with Jarod. It would also be the biggest action against her father's wishes she would ever make…though, if he was dead, it didn't seem to matter so much. Jarod would have to learn to live with the fact that her trust in her father wasn't going to just go away, that the hard woman he had created was still very much a part of who she was.

__

"It doesn't suit you."

"What?"

"This façade you put up. You try to act like your father but he's not who you are."

"This is business, Jarod, not personal, no matter how hard you try and make it that way."

It seemed that Jarod was right, it was personal, very personal. All of these years, the chase had not been merely about the capture, but about finding themselves in the process. Finding herself had been the hardest. Was she her father? Or, was she her mother? Even now she didn't know. Somewhere between Hell and a turning point. That seemed to be where she was perpetually stuck. Hopefully, alongside Jarod, she would finally discover which path she was supposed to take, who she really was.

It was remarkable that, with every terrible thing she had done in the past, he was still willing to trust her. But then, he seemed to already know who she was…in a way. While she struggled to choose between the repressed coldness of her father and the warm selflessness of her mother, Jarod seemed to think she was already her mother.

__

"Only you can decide for yourself whether or not to take a hard look at your life, the way your mother once did."

"Leave my mother out of this, okay. I am not her."

"Then who are you? Your father? Is the Parker legacy what you want to pass on to your children?"

Well, she was taking a hard look now, and the Parker legacy began to look more hideous and uninviting every time she did. That was the gruesome part of herself that she most definitely would never want any child to have to deal with. She'd had to deal with it herself and she would never wish it on anyone. Yet, it was still a part of her, and that scared her to death.

Her head was swimming by this point and she hoped desperately that Jarod was coming back soon so she could remember why she was trying to fight against the harshness when it was so much easier to submit to it and be defeated by it. The Ice Queen had nothing to lose…the real Ms. Parker had everything to lose.

She paused in her movements again. Her father had said the new Parker legacy began with her…but what was that legacy? Did it include Jarod? She vaguely wondered what the scrolls had said that could have possessed her father to jump, and what they might have said about her and Jarod's futures, but she stopped herself from pondering the topic for too long; it was futile to spend her time thinking over questions that could never be answered. She wouldn't know any of it until she lived it for herself…but to do that, she had to be out of jail.

"Where are you, Jarod?" she asked the room softly. She sat down on the little cot and rubbed her temples. Sleep deprivation was beginning to have its effects on her. Between the early phone call, the energy it had taken to maintain her coolness when she was arrested, and then the emotional outburst she'd had with Jarod, her adrenaline had peaked and died and then peaked again and died again, leaving her listless and utterly worn out.

She wanted to sleep, but she wasn't sleepy, just tired. Besides, she would never sleep in a jail cell, who knew who else had slept on the nasty little mattress. The thought made her grimace; she'd definitely need a shower after this. 

She rubbed her eyes wearily, and with nothing else to occupy her, her thoughts again turned to the past. She tried to remember a time when she was actually happy, but those memories were so few and far between. They also continuously made her sad and depressed because every time she found happiness again, it was snatched away…by the Centre. 

__

"She felt consumed by a great void and a silent abyss as terrifying as the grand palace around her. But, somewhere in the chilling blackness, she caught a glimpse of a light, she remembered a time; the precocious little girl with a heart full of fire, a soul enflamed by passion, and a smile that could melt winter and spring. But, the light was gone; the flame had died. Her past was taken from her by the soldiers of the great palace. She would continue searching, hoping to rekindle the fire. Until then, she would always be the saddest little valentine."

That was the passage of Jarod's novel that had touched her the most. She had been searching, for so long, internally, to become the little girl she was before the Centre had corrupted her. The Centre always brought more misery to her, she supposed that's why she had become so cold over the years, so emotionally bereft. Hopefully this time would be different. Jarod was a fighter; he always had been, so with him at her side, the Centre couldn't ruin them, right?

The doubts that circulated through her mind were treacherous, and it was only when the door to the room opened, that she tried to repossess her composure. Even if it was Jarod, she wasn't going to let him see her broken-down under the pressure of her confusion and doubt. Some part of her Ice Queen persona still would not allow such an action…though, she had cried in front of him earlier that day, and up until that point it had been an unspoken rule that they would never cry in front of one another. Still, she wouldn't allow herself to breakdown in the middle of the Blue Cove police department, regardless of whether or not Jarod would mind, it was just too much of an emotionally revealing action.

However, the door did not reveal Jarod, but another officer, followed by the stout officer whom she had spoken with before.

Standing, she walked toward the officers. "Where is Sheriff Wilson?" she asked, remembering to call Jarod by his current pseudonym.

The stout officer answered, "He got transferred out to Chicago."

"Chicago," Ms. Parker said bluntly.

The stout officer nodded.

Jarod was gone! What the hell was going on? He left her there? How could that be after their last conversation?

Automatically, the only thing she ever had to turn to when she was panicked kicked into gear. The anger surged through her, blocking out any reasonable thought that could refute what Jarod has just done to her. 

Bastard. Here she was, finally having allowed herself to appear vulnerable, finally admitting the truth to Jarod, and he had left her stuck in hell.

Well, he better be happy because now she'd track him down more viciously than ever. No one made a fool of a Parker, no one…but she didn't even want to be a Parker. What was going on?

Confusion and doubt, again, overtook her.

The other officer spoke up, "Real nice guy, Sheriff Wilson. He got transferred in here back in December, took over for our last sheriff, even found the assailant who gunned the old sheriff down."

Ms. Parker just stared at them emptily, unfeeling. Jarod had left to go to Chicago. He had left her to rot in prison. It seemed that trust did in fact mean nothing at all.

She wanted to curl up in a ball and weep. NO. Now was not the time for a breakdown, not in front of Deputy "Dandy" from this Podunk Andy Griffith prison.

"Andy Taylor" she whispered softly, correcting herself; his quirks were infectious. Oh God…why would Jarod do this to her?

"Anyway," the stout officer began again, not hearing her comment, "before he left, he said that your story checked out, and phone records proved that you had in fact been responding to a phone call in your home right after the time of death of the victim, so you hadn't been at the site at the time. He also found the license for that gun you had on you. He filled out the paperwork for your release himself."

The stout officer stepped forward and unlocked the cell, allowing a very stiff Ms. Parker to walk through.

The other officer spoke again, "You can get your belongings at the front desk and use the phone to call yourself a cab."

"Thank you," Ms. Parker said rigidly, before walking briskly from the room and reacquiring her things at the front desk.

Why would Jarod help her get out of the police department and then vanish into thin air? It didn't make any sense. What was she supposed to do? It had seemed, after their last conversation, that when she was released, she would join him on the run and they would take the Centre down side by side. But now, he was on his way to Chicago while she was still in Blue Cove.

Her anger fired up at her current abandonment and she silently reprimanded herself for believing that Jarod was going to allow her to suddenly come running to his side. Damn Jarod, damn her for trusting him, and damn the Centre, just because it was there.

Jarod was just like all of the rest of them; he didn't care about her in the slightest. He was a liar just like everyone else in her life. No, Jarod was even worse because he acted as though he cared. He was a wolf in sheep's clothing. He had duped her.

Feelings of anger and hatred threatened to overcome her, but she couldn't forget her directive. She'd meant what she said; she wasn't going back to the Centre. She used the phone to call herself a cab so she could go to her house and collect some things to travel with, and then walked out of the station.

Emerging into the bright morning light, she rummaged through her bag of regained belongings and pulled out her sunglasses.

Ms. Parker began to walk to a bench, off to the side of the building, in the shade to wait for her cab, when an arm suddenly reached out and grasped her by the shoulder.

She spun around quickly, ready to assault whoever it was that dared to touch her, when her gaze fell on Jarod, standing calmly in front of her.

"Jarod," she growled angrily.

Jarod's brow furrowed at her sudden hostility. "What's wrong."

"What's wrong! You left me in there. What the hell are you doing?" She spoke slowly with increased anger backing her words.

"Parker, calm down." He reached out an arm to hers to quiet her down but she swatted it away and turned her head to the side so she wasn't looking at him straight on, not that he could see her eyes anyway, they were still concealed by the dark sunglasses. 

"Don't touch me." Ms. Parker's voice was cold and sent chills down Jarod's spine. "Tell me, Jarod, why it was necessary for you to leave without telling me where you were going."

Jarod was confused. "I didn't leave, I'm right here."

Ms. Parker turned back to face him, pulling her sunglasses off so that her eyes were no longer covered. 

Jarod could see that they were laced with fresh pain, but Ms. Parker continued in a menacing tone and the look on her face did not soften.

"No, Jarod, you did leave and I had to hear from your lame police sidekicks that you had transferred to Chicago."

Jarod became as upset as she was. Only, his anger was over the fact that she really believed he'd do that to her. "You honestly thought that after our last conversation I was going to just waltz off and leave you here."

"Isn't that what you usually do, Houdini? Vanish into thin air? No notes, no messages, nothing at all, you're just gone and I'm stuck in this rat hole like usual." Ms. Parker's voice was spiteful.

Jarod's voice answered her spite sternly. "That was your choice Parker. I never made you stick around here all of these years."

She laughed sadly, before continuing in a low growl. "As if your pure existence wasn't enough. If I hadn't been assigned to your pursuit I might have gotten away from the Centre."

Jarod scoffed. "They'd never let you go Parker. I don't know why you ever believed they would." Jarod paused for a moment before continuing in a voice that could rival her disdain filled one. "The Centre believes that they own us, that human lives can be bought and sold and manipulated at their will. How could you be naïve enough to think they'd let you just walk away? They don't let any of us go. Didn't your mother's murder get that through your head? And if not that, I felt sure you would have figured it out when they killed Thomas right at your own house. Wake up Parker."

Blind rage began to consume Parker as Jarod's words hit her hard. "What the hell do you know, Jarod? As if you weren't caught up in your own naïve dreams about the world. Do you honestly think this crusade against the world's power corrupted morons you've had going for the last few years is winning you merit badges with someone?"

Jarod's face tightened contemptibly at her comments. "At least I've been trying to make amends for all of the terrible things that have happened in my life, all of the evil that I was a part of. What have you ever done that's half as bold as that, Ms. Parker? You're too busy seeking your father's approval, waiting for him to pet you while you carry out his every demented scheme. At least I had an excuse for letting them use me to further their psychotic agenda; I didn't know. But you knew, Parker, you knew enough. You were a cleaner, you've seen what they've done, still, you never had the courage to just walk away."

They stood on the sidewalk, as the nameless masses, who had no idea what evil lurked in that industrial building right on the edge of town, went on leading their happy lives. Yes, they could live happily, secure in the knowledge that they were safe, that with law enforcement right nearby, everything was going to be okay. They had no idea of the ways in which individuals driven by greed and power could corrupt the most sound and indestructible of men. No idea of the horrors the two people arguing on the side of the street had witnessed, had participated in.

Silence fell between Parker and Jarod as the comments they used to defend their precious worlds cut deeply into eachother's hearts. It seemed that all they could ever do was hurt one another.

Jarod straightened up as though he were going to speak again, then shook his head softly, turned and walked away from Parker.

Ms. Parker's eyes flashed with anger at the sight of him walking away and she called after him. "And off you run, again. Aren't you tired of it yet, Jarod?" Her words were meant to scathe him, hurt him like he'd hurt her by abandoning her in the police department, but they ended up sounding more tired than harsh.

Jarod stopped in his tracks, and turned, speaking to her across the few feet that separated them; across the wall she always built to keep herself from getting to close to anyone. "Aren't you tired, Parker? Isn't that what you meant before? That you were tired of the game, tired of the chase?"

Jarod's eyes stared straight into Ms. Parker's. She felt as though they were touching her very soul. She turned her eyes down shakily, trying to break his connection with her, but unable to do so. He knew her too well. That was always the problem. While she kept him so very far away, he was still always right up close with her.

Admittedly, somewhere, buried beneath every thought of fear and anger, rage and hatred, she had known Jarod wouldn't leave her, he never did.

"What's it gonna be, Parker? Is it I run and you chase, or are you finally ready to let go?" Jarod interrupted her thoughts.

"Let go of what?" She stalled, trying to come to some reasonable understanding of what she should say.

Jarod's laugh was hollow. "If you don't know, you aren't ready to let go. I'll see you around, Parker." He turned and began to walk away again.

"Get the hell back here Jarod!" Parker yelled out, running after him. "I'm not done talking to you."

"Yes you are." Jarod continued walking, not turning to face her as she ran up behind him.

Ms. Parker grabbed his arm and spun him around. "No, Jarod, no dial tones today," she said sternly.

Jarod looked away. "Talking on the phone is easier, Parker, because I don't have to look at you throwing your life away trusting the wrong people."

Ms. Parker narrowed her eyes. "For the last goddam time, Jarod. I-Trust-You." She stressed each word making them carry the importance she wanted him to know she felt they had.

"Then why did you think I was going to leave without you?" Jarod's eye's bored into her, daring her to admit that she didn't trust him.

But, she did trust him, that was the whole problem. It was tearing her up inside. Her loyalties were finally being torn between the hard, domineering persona her father had created, and the warm, welcoming one her mother had passed down to her.

Ms. Parker bit her lip and swore softly. "Because Jarod that's my S.O.P. It's all I have to protect me."

Again, Jarod laughed hollowly. "Because I'm so dangerous, Parker. Who knows, I might cause you to face your fears one day. 'Ooh bad, have to yell and pull my gun.' " Jarod mocked her.

Ms. Parker gritted her teeth, as Jarod spurred her anger. "If you're not careful, you might find yourself on the business end of that very firearm in a few seconds."

"My mistake in clearing you of your charges for carrying an unlicensed weapon," Jarod spat back. "It seems my trust in you has backfired again. You would think, by now, that I would have learned better."

"Apparently there are some things that even a pretender can't absorb," Ms. Parker paused for a long angst filled moment as she and Jarod had an intense staring contest. "Like the fact that I care about you, and for once in my life I'm not lying," she finished curtly. 

Jarod narrowed his eyes, but did not break their intense gaze into Ms. Parker's eyes. "How do I know that you're not lying?"

"Because I said so," she continued menacingly.

"You've said a lot of things, Parker. I could recount them all to you, and quite a few would reveal some things you don't want them to." Jarod's tone was truthful and firm.

Ms. Parker replied sternly. "What? Like the fact that I live a lie daily? Been there, done that. Try a new one, Jarod, this one's getting too tired for even a network movie of the week."

Jarod was confused. "What?"

Ms. Parker sighed in exasperation and reiterated her former statement. "It's getting old, Jarod. We always say the same stupid things to each other. We always dance the same stupid dance. It's cliched."

"I run and you chase, just like always," Jarod added dryly. "That's the drill, right."

"Not anymore. I said we're raising the stakes, Jarod. The dynamics of the chase are changing. We're taking a gamble here, by trying to pursue a relationship. But, it's a gamble I'm willing to take. Are you?"

There was that bare-all tone she'd had before, when she had spoken to him in the department. Last time he had heard it, he had made the mistake of not believing her, and caused her to cry, caused her inadvertent pain. But not this time. If she meant it, they were the greatest words he had ever heard in the world.

"Yes."

"Good." Ms. Parker's relief was evident by how her stance softened, but her voice continued, strong and steady. "Now, get me the hell out of here, Jarod."

"Out of lovely, Blue Cove, Delaware?" Jarod joked.

"Snake pit," Ms. Parker replied, in typical Parker fashion.

Jarod laughed. "Snake pit, rat hole, Rat Boy, Lab Rat; Parker, did you notice that you have an affection for using animals to characterize situations and people."

"Tongue of venom," Ms. Parker answered. "Now shut up, and move your ass, Rat Boy. Time to go."

Jarod chuckled. It was good to have Parker on his side.

"Yes, m'lady," Jarod said subserviently, still joking with her.

"That's a good boy, Pez Head, now fetch the car."

"Yes, m'lady." Jarod let out another laugh.

Now, Parker laughed as well. It felt good, fulfilling in a way.

Jarod smiled widely at the sight of Parker laughing. It was a rare sight, and he reveled in it. He led the way to his car, and they drove off, leaving behind their past in that "snake pit," Blue Cove, Delaware…for the time being anyway.

Author's Note: Sorry that this chapter was shorter, but it took two weeks and fourteen rewrites to get even this much. (The last chapter had twelve rewrites! I'm getting picky about my writing.) I torture myself that way. But oh well, having something to be proud of is worth it, right? I'm trying to stay as close to the actual characters as possible, and it's a struggle. It also takes a lot of time and energy…sigh. I tend to bounce back pretty easily. I just keep hammering at the story until it's sculpted just the way I want it, something I neglected to do on any of my other stories. Anyway, I'm sure I'm wasting your time by continuing to ramble incessantly, so I'm gonna wrap this up.

Tell me what you thought characterization wise, story wise, etc. Anything you've got to say, send it right along. I LOVE FEEDBACK! I think I'm bringing Lyle into the next chapter, any thoughts on good episodes to pull quotes from for him? Please send a review. Love Ya!


	3. Ignorance and Blindness

Disclaimer: I don't own the Pretender…despite any delusions my current Pez high has given me. Would you like a Pez? The characters are not mine and I'm not making any money out of spending hours of my day obsessing over them. In the event that you feel like suing me for using the characters, I will merely plead insanity due to overconsumption of Pez. So again, I ask, would you like a Pez?

Second Disclaimer: I liked my first one so much, I though I'd write another…not really. Anyway, I've borrowed lines from the following episodes of the Pretender: "Unsinkable" and "Gigolo Jarod." It should be noted that these episodes are not mine. I never wrote them nor did I have anything to do with their development or creation. My apologies for using someone else's work. The **_bolded and italicized_** lines are from Act III of Thornton Wilder's play "Our Town." This, of course, is also not mine and standard apologies apply. I also have no idea if the play ever existed in a hard bound edition with a red cover…sadly, I own it in a recently published paperback edition…but I like the idea of a worn red cover.

Summary: Lyle frames Ms. Parker for murder and guess who comes along as the local sheriff, that's right, Jarod. Will Parker finally allow him to free her from her prison, both literally and figuratively? Post IOTH.

Behind Bars

By Bec-Bec

Another chapter

****

Ignorance and Blindness

**__**

"Were you happy?"

"No…I should have listened to you. That's all human beings are! Just blind people."

Ms. Parker glanced over a few of the last lines in the play "Our Town." The old fabric cover on the book had long been faded, and the pages were turning yellow with age. However, despite its appearance, it held endless emotional value because it had been her mother's.

She wasn't sure why she had opened the book up, memories perhaps. Many memories, and she now had to choose which ones she wanted to bring with her and which ones she would ultimately leave behind.

Jarod had brought her back to her house to collect what she would need while they traveled together. Together. The thought was still foreign to her, still new and surprising, but she wasn't sorry. Of all the emotions running through her, regret was not among them.

"What are you reading?" Jarod asked from the doorway of her mother's study.

He was reluctant to enter the room without her permission to do so. He knew this one room was her sanctuary from the entire world, and he couldn't intrude on something so personal and precious to her.

Ms. Parker tore her eyes from the old book and turned them to face Jarod. "It's just an old play. My mother had it on the bookshelf. It was one of the books we were going to read together…but we never got the chance." Ms. Parker's eyes became shadowy as memories of the childhood she was never allowed to complete came to mind.

After her mother had died, her innocence had been lost to the harsh world of the Centre. Her father had not allowed her to dabble in dreams…and that's all childhood was, dreams. She had been forced to grow up; metamorphose into a woman directly from a child with no years of transition. Perhaps that's why, like Jarod, she had searched to reclaim the past for all of these years. They both needed closure on their stolen childhoods so that they could finally move on with their lives.

Jarod shifted uneasily in the doorway. Ms. Parker was completely open in this room; there was nothing artificial or deceptive hiding in it. He felt that, for the first time since they were younger, Ms. Parker was sharing a part of herself that she never shared with anyone. While it was reassuring that she trusted him enough to let him witness her true self, it was discomfiting because he wasn't accustomed to it. He'd grown used to the Ice Queen and her boundaries. So, as much as he'd like to enter the room and join in her pain over a lost childhood, completely sharing in her feelings, he couldn't bring himself to cross that line.

Ms. Parker glanced over at Jarod, breaking away from the memories of her past, and noticed his apprehensive stance. He must have been afraid to come into the room. It wasn't unusual, she even expected it. They had lived the parts of hunter and prey for so long that when their defenses were truly down, it was hard to accept what was going on. But their parts in that play were over now.

The lines from "Our Town" drifted back to her.

**__**

"Were you happy?"

"No…I should have listened to you. That's all human beings are! Just blind people."

She had been blind to what was going on, corrupted by her father so much that she couldn't see the terrible things happening right in front of her, the things that she became an accomplice to. She had also been sad, so very sad. Happy hadn't existed, because she hadn't listened to what her instincts had told her…except once, with Thomas.

Thomas had been the only other person to come in this room, besides her and her mother…the only person she shared it with, the only person who had scaled the insurmountable wall she had created to protect herself. He had broken through to a place where only her mother had been for many years.

__

"She had a very painful life and that room was her sanctuary."

"No, Parker, you were. But, you can't remember that. When you closed off that room, you closed off a part of your soul, the part that came from her. Get it back."

"I can't do it alone."

Thomas had been there with her, and she hadn't been alone. Perhaps Thomas had been the first person that she had trusted since her mother's death…though she could never tell him everything about herself or her life, she had allowed him to get close to her heart. But he was gone now…and probably because of the trust she had given him and the part of her heart that she had allowed him into. 

After that, she had blocked everyone and everything out, again. In the end, the Ice Queen was always called upon to save her from the pain of loss. Yet, here she was now, defenses down, ready to risk it all again. She only hoped that this time it would be different. That, for once, it wouldn't end in heartache and emptiness.

She had taken the chance with Thomas, now it was time to take that same chance with Jarod.

Ms. Parker walked quietly over to Jarod and took his hand, pulling him gently into the room. She didn't speak to him, just pulled him silently into her one escape from the painful world she lived in.

Finally, Jarod spoke. "I didn't want to trespass somewhere you didn't want me to be."

"Jarod, my life hasn't been easy, not since my mother died, and not since Thomas…" She paused for a moment. "This room is the one place I've had where there weren't any lies; there were no facades for me to hide behind because I didn't need them. You always knew this room was here, as a place inside of me, but I never let you into it. Now, I want you to be here."

A stunned silence settled on Jarod. 

Ms. Parker gave a soft smile at his shock-induced speechlessness and led him over to the window seat behind her mother's desk. She motioned for him to sit and then sat next to him, staring out the window and still clasping his hand.

"My mother and I used to come in here and talk in the moonlight. I would babble about all of my childhood foolishness, but she would listen to every single word as if it were the most interesting story she'd heard in her entire life. She made me feel important and special." A sad smile crossed her face.

"Sometimes she would read to me in here and, when I was old enough, I read to her.

"There was always comfort in this room, peacefulness. I guess, after she died, I was afraid it wouldn't be the same if it was just me." Ms. Parker transferred her gaze to her fingers, intertwined with Jarod's. 

"I didn't come back in here until Thomas gave me the courage to open this part of my past up again. After he…died, I didn't come in here for a few months. I couldn't be in here alone, it brought up too many memories. Memories that I couldn't face alone."

Silence settled on the room for a moment, but Ms. Parker did not pull her fingers from Jarod's.

Jarod didn't know what to stay. He felt that anything he said would destroy the fragile tranquility of the room. Part of him was afraid that he might set Parker off and then this guileless moment would end. She was so peaceful here, completely at ease…in his presence, no less. It was a rare and treasurable moment. He wished he could seal it up in a bottle for whenever he was feeling sad or alone, because it would supply endless comfort to him.

Finally gaining the courage to talk, Jarod interrupted Ms. Parker's vigil over their enmeshed hands. "You're in here now."

"As are you," Ms. Parker replied softly.

There was silence.

Jarod grew uncomfortable and pulled his fingers from Parker's. "I'll leave you to finish packing." Jarod spoke quietly as he got up and walked away from the window seat, towards the door.

"Jarod?" Ms. Parker's voice called him back quietly, slightly confused.

Jarod gathered his thoughts for a moment before turning back to her and answering. "It's different seeing you this way. I have to go because if I don't, we'll just end up arguing and ruin the serenity of the moment before this one. I don't want to contaminate its memory."

Ms. Parker laughed bitterly. "As if all of our memories weren't already tainted. What's another one tossed onto the heap?"

"Don't, Parker," Jarod said evenly, in response to the sudden disdain that filled her voice. "I don't feel like arguing again, today."

This emotional game of ping-pong they had going on was starting to tire him out. It was too much for one day, to have to deal with their mercurial feelings over and over.

"And I don't feel like being alone today," Ms. Parker's voice answered his firmly. "But if you honestly feel that we can't spend several minutes together without whipping into a verbal frenzy, I guess I'm going to be alone for more than today."

Jarod didn't reply. They were never together for more than several minutes without exploding at each other somehow; how could they possibly avoid arguing?

"It seems that I have my answer," Ms. Parker remarked coldly, without raising her voice. "Go, Jarod. Get the hell out of my house."

"Don't, Parker." Jarod's voice was just above a whisper.

Ms. Parker was angry, but she wouldn't yell in this room, so her voice resembled a low growl instead. "Don't do what, Jarod? Become upset when I finally come to the conclusion that I should risk it all for you…for us, and you decide you can't even be in the same room with me? That's just a little too much to ask of me, Jarod." 

"Parker, you have to admit that every time we're together, we end up fighting. You can't give me that sort of ultimatum. It's unrealistic."

Again, Ms. Parker laughed bitterly. "As if our entire lives weren't already surreal. Pardon me for asking Superman to do the one thing he seems to be incapable of: sit in a room with me and not start a shouting match." Ms. Parker's voice became hollow. "You're running again, Jarod, and this time it's not from the Ice Queen, it's from me."

He'd hurt her again.

Jarod's mind could only come up with one response. While Parker always reverted to the Ice Queen to protect herself, Jarod always reverted to logic. "When you change the parameters of an experiment, it alters the system, thereby altering the effects on the subjects and changing the population, as well as its mean response and standard deviation."

"What?" Ms. Parker sighed.

"Statistics," Jarod muttered.

"What do statistics have to do with anything, Jarod?" Ms. Parker was once again speaking softly.

"Logic. Statistics have to deal with logic, and we never seem to fall into that category. That was always our problem, Parker. I can't just read a book to find out what to say or understand what to do. I can't even SIM us because there are far too many variables to account for. It throws everything off; makes it impossible to predict the outcomes."

"Jarod, life's not supposed to adhere to any guidelines. There is no range of predictable outcomes. It's not a game of poker." Ms. Parker's voice was venomous but maintained a low volume.

"That's what confuses me. Poker has set rules. There's a method, certain specifications that you have to stick to. Life never seems to run that way."

"Leave it to Wonder Boy to have problems handling a situation when it comes down to finally acting on his emotions." Ms. Parker laughed scornfully. "And I thought I was the emotionally repressed one."

"I'm not emotionally repressed, Parker, I'm confused," Jarod mumbled.

"Join the club, I'm already the president and one of the VIPs. I'll see if I can get you a discount," Ms. Parker joked halfheartedly. 

Jarod closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, trying desperately to analyze his churning subconscious and discern why he felt like he was losing control of the situation and why it even mattered if he did lose control of the situation.

It was a difficult task because, in a way, he had to simulate himself. He had to act as the doctor and the patient at one time, the psychiatrist and the sufferer all at once.

Parker had made a valid point, if they were going to travel together, they couldn't be at eachother's throats all of the time. He also wouldn't have this room to rely upon to keep Parker's wrath in check, so they'd have to come to terms with some sort of logical truce…but logic didn't work with them, so what was he supposed to do?

They could both be highly irrational and stubborn, two qualities that made arguments likely occurrences, nearly unavoidable in fact. So, how could it ever work?

It had to work, there had to be some way to apply equations, formulas, and models to their situation, some sort of probability law that would predict the end result of their changing relationship. 

But every time he started to grasp onto something, his brain argued back. End results couldn't be predicted without trial runs and there was no such thing as a trial run of life. There were no manuals to instruct him and no books to learn from. Life was based purely on impulse and emotion. So, that's what he'd have to focus on. What were his impulses at that moment? What was he feeling?

A string of emotions ran through him; confusion and anger, at himself, were the forerunners, but they were followed quickly by love and understanding, which led him to the one emotion that finally answered his whole search: fear. 

He was afraid of losing Parker if everything didn't work out. It was ironic because that was the same thing he was teaching her to fight against. The fear of abandonment was what guided their lives everyday, and it was what was guiding his life now.

It made perfect sense that fear directed his actions; how long had it taken him to realize his true feelings for Parker? Not until he was afraid of her crawling back into the bleak world of the Centre after opening up to him on the island. When did he throw the rules of the chase out of the window? When he was afraid for Parker's life and wellbeing.

All of his musings led him back to the more universal theme that nearly every action he ever made was based on fear, which was highly unsettling.

Ms. Parker watched Jarod carefully as he toiled with whatever inner demons had him running this time. It was different being on this side of the chase. While she was indeed the hunter, always chasing, and he the prey, always running, the emotional chase had always run the other way around, with her running and him chasing.

She eyed his pensive stance thoughtfully. She had already come to terms with most of her previous reservations about pursuing a relationship with Jarod that morning. Now, all that was left was for him to come to terms with his reservations.

The longer Jarod psychoanalyzed himself, the more helpless he felt. He was lost in a place where he had no control over anything that happened in his life. Finally, he broke himself from his musings, visibly shaken by what he'd discovered.

"How did you do it, Parker?" He asked despondently

"Do what?"

"Overcome all of the doubts and fear enough to show me the true you? How did you take that risk when we could end up hurting each other even worse than we already have…when we could lose each other?"

"Like I said, Jarod, this whole thing…us…it's a gamble, but I play to win, I always have. In my opinion, you're worth it, the question is whether or not you feel the same." Her voice was steady and almost soothing.

Jarod was afraid. It came as a sort of shock to her; she had never pictured Jarod being afraid of anything. But, if she could hide her fear under a tough exterior, perhaps he had been doing the same thing as well; pretending to be okay…indestructible…the hero. He was, after all, a pretender.

Silence had fallen in the room again and Ms. Parker grew restless. She shifted the position she was sitting in.

"Jarod, I'm not known for my patience, especially when it comes to you. I suggest you hurry up coming to a decision before I get pissed off and we go through another bout of arguing because I'm getting tired and I'm NOT nice when I'm tired."

"As if arguing were a pleasant incident," Jarod grumbled.

Ms. Parker laughed scornfully. "You know very well that you willingly and fervently participate in our banter. It takes two sides to have an argument, Jarod; it's not all my doing." She paused. "Come on, Jarod, this isn't astrophysics, it's a simple yes or no question. Is giving us a chance worth it or not?"

"Who ever said that yes and no questions were easy to answer?" Jarod asked distractedly as he tried to quell the fear that threatened to overtake him.

"This coming from Boy Wonder who relies on a magic eight ball to provide him with the answers to his life." Parker laughed for a moment before becoming melancholy. "It shouldn't be that hard to answer, Jarod. If it is, then everything we've said so far today counts for nothing and there really is no such thing as trust."

Jarod huffed. "Trust. I'm almost sick of the word by now. It should mean a lot more than it does, but things never seem to work that way."

He began pacing. "IF I trust you, what am I getting myself into? If I DON'T trust you, what am I losing? Yet, the fact remains that I DO trust you. But…why did I trust you in the first place?"

Ms. Parker laughed sorrowfully. "In the end, we don't choose who we trust. I mean, look at us, we're supposedly sworn enemies, but we're the only ones in our twisted little world that we can rely on. Figures doesn't it."

There was a shared look of confusion, understanding, and comradeship that passed between them.

Jarod sighed, frowning. "It was easier when I wanted you and knew I could never have you. Now, you're a possibility, an option. I don't know if I can handle the change, especially if it means I'll end up losing you altogether. I'd rather have the illusion of you than have you stripped from my life altogether."

Ms. Parker's patience with Jarod finally ended. "Jarod, let's stop the emotional run-around here, okay? The chase is over, no more running. I'm sick and tired of it."

"I'm not running, Parker."

"Sure," Ms. Parker scoffed. "You're running in every way possible, except the one that sends you out the door. Well, if you're so intent on distancing yourself from me, don't let the door hit you in the ass on your way out."

She rose gracefully from her position on the window seat and went back to her packing. She was hoping desperately that Jarod's final decision would be to stay with her, but there was no way that she would let him see that…it would only make it hurt more if he still chose to walk out of the room and her life. A completely detached forefront was much safer…that was always the way to deal with him because then he'd be afraid that he was losing her to the Ice Queen again. It seemed to work out well playing his fears against themselves. She just hoped it would work this time…she did not, by any means, want him walking out of that door.

Jarod's own words ended up echoing back to him:

__

" They say ' 'tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.' Do you believe that's true?"

He had asked Parker that in an effort to end their loneliness on Valentine's Day…he had meant it then, he had believed it then…and he believed it now. It was time to up the ante, he just hoped his hand of cards was enough to beat the house.

Jarod walked up behind Ms. Parker quietly and laid his hand on her shoulder.

She turned abruptly to see an unsteady smile on Jarod's face and smiled back at him. It seemed to reassure him.

"Can I read it?" He asked softly.

"What?"

"The book you were looking at before."

Ms. Parker nodded softly and handed the worn book to him.

Jarod took the book and moved over to the window seat. He sat down and studied the cover with an intense look and then cautiously opened the book, handling the pages with care.

Parker watched, comforted by the fact that he was treating her mother's book with such regard and, content that Jarod wasn't going anywhere, eventually returned her attention to putting her most prized possessions into a cardboard box to take them away with her.

**__**

"Yes, now you know…That's what it was…To move around in a cloud of ignorance; to go up and down trampling on the feelings…of those around you. To spend and waste time as though you had a million years. To be always at the mercy of one self-centered passion, or another. Now you know-that's the happy existence you wanted to go back to. Ignorance and blindness."

But, even blind people needed to wake up someday.

****

Lyle smiled smugly at his reflection in the large mirror of his hotel room in Dover. He looked good…except for his thumb.

He glanced down at the pre-owned thumb…or rather, the stolen, pre-owned thumb. He narrowed his eyes at the mangled thing. Raines had some damned ugly fingers. In fact, Raines just wasn't a pleasant sight at all.

His gaze returned to the image mirrored back to him, how on earth could he be related to that wheezing ghoul? He was far too handsome and intelligent to have any blood ties to the old bastard.

Lyle leaned in closer to the mirror, having noticed a small patch of his hair that wasn't standing in quite the right direction. He smoothed his hand over it, but the springy hairs resisted. He frowned, standing up straight again. Well, there was only one thing to do when something resisted him…win. He seized his bottle of hair gel, squeezed out just the right amount to tame the hairs but not make them stiff, and patted the hairs down gently. Yes, that's the way he was supposed to look.

Lyle smiled to himself. Definitely grade A, top of the line, work. His smile grew as he realized that his approach to his hair was the same as it was when he tortured people.

There were certain ways in which to do things, certain practices that had to be carried out with precision and care to accomplish what was necessary. You had to instill just the right amount of pain, without allowing the victim to fall apart on you. Make them dread your appearance, without causing them to break before you were done doing your work.

He had worked long and hard to perfect his torturing skills and today they would come in handy. Having the perfect hair would only help him in his quest.

Taking one last admiring glance at his reflection, Lyle left the room, and the hotel, to go pick up his latest sweet treat from the airport. Time for some fun.

He had set up his "dear sister" in one of his most elaborate plots ever, one that was sure to work. While Ms. Parker would be caught up with the local authorities, he could go out and capture Jarod. That way, he could win this stupid competition Raines had started between the two of them. Having Ms. Parker removed from the picture would only speed things along. Once he had caught the runaway pretender, he would take him directly to the Triumverate, debasing Raines seat of power at the source, and ultimately taking over the Centre.

Yes, with Ms. Parker out of the way, he could finally have the life and power he deserved. It was only by some small stroke of conscience that he had kept himself from murdering Ms. Parker. Something about the thought of his sister's death at his hands didn't sit right with him…though, she was beautiful when she was angry. Not that it mattered in the slightest.

Even before he discovered they were related, he knew he had no chance with her. She was too obsessed with Jarod. Sure, she hid it behind this masquerade known as a "chase" but he knew the chase meant far more to her than it should have. Ms. Parker was just too damned emotional.

Searching for her past, what a waste of time. The past was meant to stay in the past. But did she realize that, no. It was always my mother this, and my mother that. Who gave a rat's ass? 

Their mother was weak and that's why she had been killed. It was only by some miracle, known as their father's intervention, that Ms. Parker hadn't been dealt the same fate.

Their father, there was a laugh. The old bastard chucked himself out of an airplane over some stupid shreds of paper. What a waste.

Raines was in charge now, and Lyle would maintain his allegiance for as long as it suited him, until a dethroning was in order. Pretending to be their new "father's," he used the term loosely, right-hand man would work quite fine for the time being.

Soon he would have all the power and everyone else would answer to him…except maybe Sydney and Broots… and that sweeper…what was his name? Sal? Sam? Gil?…but he'd deal with them later, first things came first. His pleasure and ultimate gain were his pure drive in life, and right now he needed that one thing which fueled him most, the thrill of the kill. It was time to get his newest victim.

Author's Note: Well, this chapter was even shorter than the last one…my apologies, of course. I've spent painstaking hours hammering this out (35 rewrites!) just to get the dialogue right. I've still got issues with a few of the lines, but that's life. If I work on it any longer, I may scrap the whole thing and start over, which would just take even longer. So, here it is, chapter 3, as it stands. I hope it wasn't too bad. Feedback would be highly appreciated and welcomed…don't be shy, I want to know exactly what you think. Love Ya! Buh Bye!


	4. Poetic Justice

Disclaimer: I don't own the Pretender…despite any delusions my current Pez high has given me. Would you like a Pez? The characters are not mine and I'm not making any money out of spending hours of my day obsessing over them. In the event that you feel like suing me for using the characters, I will merely plead insanity due to overconsumption of Pez. So again, I ask, would you like a Pez?

Second Disclaimer: I liked my first one so much, I though I'd write another…not really. Anyway, I've borrowed phrases from the following movie of the Pretender: "Island of the Haunted." It should be noted that this movie is not mine. I never wrote it nor did I have anything to do with its development or creation. My apologies for using someone else's work. The book, "The Saddest Little Valentine," appears in the episode "Gigolo Jarod," in case anyone's forgotten. This book is also not mine and was written by "Jarod Heart," Jarod's pseudonym at the time. Anyone notice that the top of the book says he's a best selling author? I wonder what else he wrote… "The Sound and the Fury" was written by William Faulkner, and is… not mine, what else is new? 

Summary: Lyle frames Ms. Parker for murder and guess who comes along as the local sheriff, that's right, Jarod. Will Parker finally allow him to free her from her prison, both literally and figuratively? Post IOTH.

Behind Bars

By Bec-Bec

A New Chapter

****

Poetic Justice

Lyle honked on his horn impatiently. He was stuck behind an endless line of cars. He silently cursed himself for not having the foresight to account for traffic in his plans that morning. How could he have forgotten something that was so blatantly obvious everyday of the week?

He pushed down on the horn again, and someone in the car in front of him stuck their head out of the window to yell foul comments at him.

"Have some respect, asswipe, there's a funeral procession crossing the street."

Lyle had several comebacks ready for the man, but he decided to keep his cool. He'd just bottle up the rage for later use. Besides, unlike the low-life in front of him, he was a gentleman.

Having ceased his relentless honking, Lyle was left in boredom in his silent car. How long was the damn funeral procession anyway? Presidents didn't even have this long of an entourage.

He'd only ever been to one funeral. It was rather meaningless too. He'd only gone so that he could show his support for his family…or more precisely, because his father loved his precious "Angel" more than life itself and he needed to be on his father's good side at the time.

The funeral for Thomas Gates had been another boring occasion in his life. Though, he did remember the vague pull on his emotions when he had seen his sister so near tears. 

It had felt odd, seeing in her eyes the love she had for Thomas, and then he had felt lonely. Questions about whether or not he would ever have that kind of love in his life had surfaced.

But, he had quickly squashed those feelings. Love got you killed. It was a stupid meaningless emotion that got in the way and botched up the most brilliant of plans.

No, he couldn't love anyone; the Centre had made sure of that a long time ago…before he'd even known they had existed. They had broken Bobby Bowman and he'd stayed that way.

****

Jarod finished reading "Our Town" in a relatively short amount of time, and quickly moved on to another book in Ms. Parker's collection as he waited for her to finish deciding what she couldn't live without and what could be left behind. 

He was mildly surprised that some of the things she had placed aside in her box, to bring with her, were little gifts that he had given her over the years.

The copy of "The Sound and the Fury" that Jarod had selected to read was momentarily forgotten as he pulled the book he had written for Ms. Parker out of her box.

" 'The Saddest Little Valentine,' " Jarod said softly, touching the cover lightly and then running his forefinger along its now curled edges. Jarod turned toward where Ms. Parker was standing. "I thought you 'skimmed through' this. From the state it's in, I'd say you've read it quite a few times."

"It was well written, that's all." Ms. Parker tried to sound nonchalant, attempting to pass the words off as though they were the only reason the book was in such a well-worn condition. 

The truth was, she'd lost count of the number of times she'd read the book. She barely even needed it anymore because she had memorized most of the lines. Despite the sad story it portrayed, she couldn't seem to pull herself away from it because…it was her.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." Jarod smiled knowingly. "I guess I can add author to the list of careers I could possibly have." He grimaced as the last words left his lips. He may never truly know who or what he was. 

Jarod put the book back in Ms. Parker's box and released a long, heavy sigh.

"Ah, the eternal search for who we are," Ms. Parker said bitterly, her thoughts having traveled in the same direction Jarod's had. "I don't know if we'll ever find an answer to that question. That may just be a delusion, a dream we feed ourselves that drives us to keep fighting for some sort of poetic justice against the Centre."

Jarod nodded in agreement. "I suppose it's just the tragic irony of our lives; the freedom we want so desperately can only come from them, and yet, we'd rather be free from them than anything." Jarod paused for a moment. "We're caught in suspension, I guess. As hard as we try, our world never seems to change as much as we'd like it to."

"But something compels us to keep trying, Jarod. Is it stubbornness? Ignorance and Blindness? Or, do you think we might actually win? That our world really could change?" Ms. Parker's voice was low and she turned her eyes to Jarod, looking for some sign of hope that their world really could change someday.

Jarod smiled softly, wistfully, yet almost reassuring. "I don't know any better than you do, Parker. But, it seems, in a way, we've already made quite a few strides toward a change. Your decision to leave the Centre, in itself, is a huge stride."

"Yes and one that took a long time to prompt into happening. How much longer is it going to take? How much more of our lives are going to be spent fighting for the cause?"

As Ms. Parker spoke, her voice became tinged with annoyance at the path their lives had taken. It seemed that, as hard as they tried, they could never really free themselves from the dark oppressive forces of the Centre. No matter what, the Centre would always be looming in the background, as if to constantly remind them of the gravity of their situation.

After a long pause, Jarod finally spoke. "I can't answer that, Parker. I don't know. I suppose it comes down to whether or not you really want to fight them. 

"It may well be that we have merely been looking for a poetic justice we've deluded ourselves into believing is attainable. It's also possible that we've been seeking some sort of revenge for the pain they've caused us in the past. I can't say that I haven't wanted to make everyone who hurt me at the Centre suffer as much as I did, but I've done my best to squelch those feelings. Destroying their lives based on revenge would just make us into the monsters they are. The only way we can really win is to make them play by our rules instead of theirs. And, in that way, I don't know how long it will take to establish our own field of play, if you even want to." 

"I don't want to have a face off with hell incarnate but it's something we have to do. We don't really have a choice in the matter." Her tone was embittered, filled with resentment at being stuck in such a situation. 

Jarod didn't miss her emotions, and answered tentatively, but firmly. "You always have a choice, Parker. I would never force you to live the life I live, waiting and planning to strike when they least anticipate it, while trying to stay beneath their radar. I don't expect you to always be on the run, looking over your shoulder, knowing that you're never really safe no matter where you go. I don't want you to never have a home. You don't have to suffer through that, you have the option to just walk away."

Yes, it was an option, but one he hoped she wouldn't take.

At the police department, she'd said that she was going to take down the Centre, that they'd taken too much from her over the years, but those words were spoken under unusual circumstances; he wouldn't hold them to her if she wanted out. In the long run, it would probably be safer for her if she did leave, and all he ever wanted for her were her safety and happiness.

Still, now that they were beginning to build a fragile alliance and she had finally allowed him a glimpse of her true self, he was loath to let her slip away. But, if he had to…he could do it…for her wellbeing. There was no point to her risking her life if she didn't feel she should.

The debate in Ms. Parker's head was minor and inconsequential; there was no way she'd just leave when her business with the Centre was so unsettled. Besides, now that she and Jarod were on the same team, the downfall of the Centre would be immanent. If there was anything the last five years of the chase had taught her it was that, together, she and Jarod were an unconquerable team.

There was barely an argument against her involvement in the battle of wits that they were about to start with the Centre. Sure, there were the logical reasons: she could die, he could die, they could both die, they could lose any chance they had to find the truth and put their families back together, but those things could happen whether they chose to fight the Centre or not. Aside from the fact that it was dangerous, she had no qualms about continuing the crusade.

There was also the added bonus that the relationship she and Jarod were trying to forge could blossom as they worked side by side. The foundations of their connection were there, they always had been, and over the years they had built on them slowly, but it wasn't until recently that she had realized how strong their interdependence had become. 

She had tried to deny it while she chased him, but even then, she knew the reason she always got so close was that she understood him; the way he thought, the way he felt. 

Now, she could admit that there was something between them, something that made them kindred spirits, fighting for a collective goal that could only be realized when they sought it out together. And now, they were most definitely together. It was time for their relationship to flourish, time for "_something more_" than "_you run, I chase_."

The short span of silence that had passed, after Jarod told Ms. Parker she had the option to leave, was broken by Ms. Parker's smooth and even tone.

"No, Jarod, walking away is not an option. It never was. If I thought it would solve anything, I would have been gone a hell of a long time ago. There's too much to fight for, and I'll be damned if I'm going to give up the chance to fight for it."

"Are you absolutely sure you want to start down this road? If we're going to do this, we have to be fully committed to it because there's no going back once we start. It's a long process and as soon as it's done, it's done," Jarod's said firmly. He needed to make sure that it was what she really wanted, that despite all of the sacrifices she'd have to make, she wouldn't have any regrets later on.

"Jarod, we started down this road years ago. I couldn't go back now even if I wanted to. We've always wanted to know more about our past, about who we are. Maybe it was just curiosity when we were younger, but over the years it's become a necessity. I need to know who I am, and you need to know who you are. This is the only way we'll ever find any of the answers we've been looking for, the only we'll finally be able to move on…if that's even possible."

"We're children of our pasts, Parker, they will never leave us fully. And, we can't speculate about the future, it's too indefinite. I wish I could plot it all out with equations and variables and probabilities, but I can't. If I could, I'd tell you exactly what's going to happen, what we're getting into, but there are no assurances."

Ms. Parker sighed wearily. "No assurances and nothing to rely on…" She moved her hand over to where Jarod's was resting on top of her bookcase, and placed hers on top of it. "Jarod, I didn't want to trust you and I never asked for you to trust me, but somehow, in our little deranged world, it happened. 

It could be that fate is just messing with our lives while we play as unwilling pawns for the Centre, but I trust the bond that exists between us. The Centre can go to hell for all I care, and if we help them to get there faster, I'd only be happier. But, no matter how hard they try, they can't destroy that trust; they've tried pretty damn hard and, while I wanted to believe they had succeeded, they couldn't sever that tie between us. There's no denying that this will be a difficult and long road, hell, it was already complicated and it will only become more so, but based on what we've accomplished in the past, I think we've got a shot at winning."

There was that open tone that Jarod was very quickly becoming attached to. Combined with her hand resting on top of his, he could feel waves of affection, understanding and acceptance coming from her and was almost shocked that he was lucky enough to be on the receiving end of such emotions.

Ms. Parker, on the other hand, was disturbed by the fact that, despite her gestures, Jarod was just standing there tightlipped and stoic. What was the point of showing emotions if they were never appreciated or reciprocated?

"Are you almost done packing?" Jarod asked softly, trying to pull his attention away from the contact of her hand on his.

"Why is it that you a have a penchant for avoiding any sort of response when I pour my heart out to you?" Ms. Parker asked with mild anger. She tried to withdraw her hand, but Jarod caught it before she could pull it back. "Let go of me, Lab Rat."

"No. Why is it that you jump to conclusions so quickly?" Jarod asked, curtly. "Not everyone is trying to hurt you."

"Then what's with the silent treatment?" Ms. Parker asked coolly.

"I was giving the moment the respect it deserved. It's not every day that you tell me the connection between us is real and not some figment of my imagination or pitiful result of my subconscious. Pardon me for caring." He dropped her hand from his grasp.

"You know, Jarod, the two of us are really going to have to work on our communication skills so we stop jumping to unreasonable conclusions," Ms. Parker said softly after a short period of silence.

"Old habits die hard, I've heard. It's difficult to work past all of the defenses we have to protect ourselves. It would also be unreasonable to think we could get through everything within a few hours of one day." Jarod's tone was thoughtful.

"We've always been victims of unreasonable expectations, Jarod. That's just the way our lives go." She paused for a moment. "We'll figure out how to communicate with each other eventually."

"I heard somewhere that actions speak louder than words, and, in that case, I think the fact that you haven't tried to shoot me yet today is progress on that front. We must be communicating better already." Jarod smiled softly.

"The day is young, my friend," Ms. Parker joked, "and my gun's still loaded. We'll see how things go from here."

****

After several minutes, which seemed like hours, the cars finally began moving again and the traffic dissipated. Lyle would have been thrilled if it hadn't been for the fact that, while he was waiting, he had been turning the dial on his radio, trying to find something suitable to listen to, when he'd caught news that flights out of Chicago had been delayed due to fog. Now, his trip to the airport was meaningless, as was the long wait in traffic.

Angrily, Lyle pulled a U-turn in the middle of the street and drove back toward his hotel. He would call Susan after he'd cooled off. Perhaps her flight wouldn't be delayed for too long and she would still fly in before nighttime.

Lyle checked his watch. Nine o'clock; she should still be in by the evening. What was he going to do in the meantime though? Check on his beloved 'sis'?

No, she'd just bore him with verbal barbs and he wasn't in the mood for striking back at her. Besides, it might look suspicious if he showed up at the jail; presumably she'd probably already told them that he'd framed her.

What did one do for amusement when they were bored? Read? No, books were boring, though, there were some cute Asian women at the bookstore… He'd leave that as an option.

What else wouldn't leave him sadly unsatisfied? Getting drunk? Alcohol was a rather fine distraction…but he'd need to drive later to pick up Susan. So, that was out of the question.

He could track down Jarod, but there were no clues at the moment and the last place he wanted to be right now was the Centre.

Bored. Bored. Bored.

The cemetery. The idea came to him just as he passed through the intersection where he had been held up before.

Making another illegal turn in the middle of the street, while no cars were coming, of course, he headed off toward the cemetery. Yes, that was a fine idea, nothing was as soothing as a nice stroll through the cemetery. He might even go and visit the graves of his parents…the mother he never knew and the father who could have cared less.

Perhaps if he had grown up with them he would have turned out different. Maybe he would have had a better childhood…though, Parker was always complaining about her childhood. Yet another reason to hate her.

At least Mr. Parker had never beaten her, he may have left a few emotional scars, but he was nothing compared to Lyle Bowman. That man was a bastard, yet he'd still sought approval from him. He hated that he wanted a father figure, at his age he shouldn't need one.

Parker had Sydney for when Mr. Parker cruelly turned her away, but who did he have?

His "mother" had gone crazy, talking to animals that weren't there. With the nutcases that were his parents, who wouldn't have expected him to turn out like he had?

Lyle shook the thoughts from his head. He wasn't going to let the idiots who raised him, or jealousy toward Ms. Parker, ruin his stroll through his garden of death.

The cemetery was a wonderful place to spend unoccupied hours.

Bobby Bowman, the frightened little boy, was pushed back into the recesses of Lyle's mind, as far as he was concerned, Bobby no longer existed.

Author's Note: This incredibly short chapter clocks in with a remarkable…drum roll please…41 rewrites. Dedication, patience, and commitment, so you say…hmmm. I figured it was just perfectionism, but I like your words better, they make me feel less… certifiably crazy. It wouldn't be so bad, if I wasn't tirelessly trying to stay so close to the characters. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, short as it may be. Special thanks to Nancy for the phrase "fragile alliance," which I pulled from her review. I think it's the perfect wording for the new relationship that Parker and Jarod are starting. Hopefully the next chapter will be longer, but no promises, it comes as it comes. Thanks for reading. As always, feedback and thoughts would be greatly appreciated, respected, and treasured. Love Ya!


	5. Searching for Stability

Disclaimer: I don't own the Pretender…despite any delusions my current Pez high has given me. Would you like a Pez? The characters are not mine and I'm not making any money out of spending hours of my day obsessing over them. In the event that you feel like suing me for using the characters, I will merely plead insanity due to overconsumption of Pez. So again, I ask, would you like a Pez?

Second Disclaimer: I liked my first one so much, I though I'd write another…not really. Anyway, I've borrowed lines from the following movie of the Pretender:  The Island of the Haunted." It should be noted that this movie is not mine. I never wrote it nor did I have anything to do with its development or creation. My apologies for using someone else's work. 

Summary: Lyle frames Ms. Parker for murder and guess who comes along as the local sheriff, that's right, Jarod. Will Parker finally allow him to free her from her prison, both literally and figuratively? Post IOTH.

**Behind Bars**

By Bec-Bec

Chapitre Cinq (Just because French is a great language, n'est pas?)

**Searching for Stability**

Lyle strolled through the cemetery at a slow and leisurely pace. He wove in and out through the various headstones, ignoring the names and dates that brought most people to visit the area. He could care less who these people were, or used to be. To him, the only purpose of a cemetery was to give people a place to walk calmly. Sure, the majority of the world would use a public park for an afternoon walk, but parks were infested with snot-nosed children, mangy dogs, flying baseballs and frisbees, and a thousand other vile distractions that a businessman like him didn't need. No, a cemetery was the perfect place to get away from it all. The only occupants here could no longer distract anyone at all.

The idea of death that the cemetery represented was soothing in itself. He could never understand why people were so afraid of death when it was such a large part of life. But then, he could never really comprehend people at all. They were stupid and annoying creatures, always complaining about one inconsequential thing or the other when they really didn't have any problems at all. He, on the other hand, had plenty of problems to complain about, but you never saw him blubbering about them, did you?

Lyle paused at the spot where his mother and father were supposedly buried. What a laugh, even in death no one got any peace from the Centre. Bastards.

His gaze fell on the stone marker.

Catherine Parker, the saint, the angel, everyone's bright shining beacon of light in this hellhole of a world and her companion in life and death, Mr. Parker, no first name given, the cold hearted business man, intent on power and led by greed. What an unlikely pair.

Sure, Mr. Parker did have his soft spots for Catherine and his darling "Angel," Ms. Parker, but other than that, the bastard could have cared less about anyone. 

Perhaps he had tried to care about the son he'd only recently discovered, and maybe he had spent some small amount of affection on the young Master Parker, whom no one had seen since his birth, but all Lyle had felt from the man was coldness. He'd never loved him like a son. Hell, he'd jumped out of an airplane and left his own "children" to die. What kind of father would do that?

But, even as compassionless as he had been, the idea of Mr. Parker being his father was far less unsettling than the idea that Raines was his father. With blood like Raines' running through his body, it was no wonder he had become the same sort of monster.

Yet, despite all of his bitter feelings toward his supposed parents, and ever-changing-but-always-absent father, Lyle couldn't bring himself to resent the feeling that the kill brought him. All of that…power.

When he watched the last breath of air leave a body, he could feel for one millisecond of time that he wasn't useless, that his existence had a meaning and a purpose. He felt powerful, dominating, invincible. But, only moments later, his worthlessness would creep back up on him. No one loved him, no one needed him; he was small and inconsequential in the world. 

Someday he would change that. Someday they would all have to answer to him. Everyone would fear him and he would be able to feed off of the power he had over them like an infant gaining nourishment from its mother. The acceptance he'd so desperately craved all of his life would finally be his and he could squash them all like the insignificant bugs they'd made him feel he was for all of these years.

Lyle spat contemptuously on the grave of his father and cast a longing gaze at his mother's name etched on the other side of the stone.

Catherine wouldn't have let him become who he was. She would have loved him despite his flaws, cared for him without reservation. But he didn't even have memories of her to comfort him. She hadn't even known he was alive. Damn Raines for taking him that day.

Lyle shook his head, half in sorrow and half to shake some sense back into himself. These sort of thoughts would only keep him from achieving his goal. There was no time for mourning something that never could have been when there was so much he still needed to do to gain his seat of control. Only weak children dallied in the past and he was NOT a weak child.

Cursing himself for allowing his thoughts to wander, and letting his mind disrupt the peacefulness the cemetery usually offered him, Lyle stalked back out to his car. He left in a hurry trying to put distance between himself and the memories of his past that he could never seem to shake.

Someone would pay for his years of pain and suffering, and that person was going to be Mr. Raines. But not today.

Lyle sped away to his hotel, it was time to call Susan and brighten his day with one small minute of pure all encompassing power.

****

Jarod sat on the window seat in Catherine Parker's study, admiring the view. Ms. Parker's house was surrounded by forest, and the scene spread before him was breathtaking. It was no wonder that this room served as a sanctuary for both of the Parker women. The serenity of the landscape could make anyone feel safe, even someone plagued by the insecurity and instability of a life where the Centre existed.

Reflections on the glass alerted Jarod to the fact that Ms. Parker had come back to the room. She had left a little while ago to pack some clothes, now that her more important belongings had been boxed up.

"It's beautiful, isn't it," Ms. Parker said as she sat down next to him.

Jarod simply nodded in response.

Ms. Parker rested her hand against the cool glass and fixed her eyes on the landscape outside. "When are we going to leave?"

Jarod's gaze remained focused just beyond the window. "Soon. I'm guessing it won't take long for Lyle to find out that his plan has failed and you've escaped. Whether or not he'll realize that you're with me, I don't know. But, either way, you're not safe in Blue Cove any more." He turned to face Ms. Parker. "Lyle's getting desperate, and there's no telling what he'll try next time."

"My brother the cannibalistic rapist with a fetish for Asian women." Ms. Parker shuddered. "I'd rather not stick around to ride shotgun in whatever freak show he's got planned next." She turned toward Jarod, her voice becoming cold and hate filled. "The power hungry bastard has been trying to get his claws on the chairman's position for years. He's about to make a play to dethrone Raines and framing me for murder was part of some elaborate plot he's scheming."

Jarod nodded solemnly. "Getting you out of the way was the first part of his plan. With you removed from the picture, he's in charge of the chase. He's probably deluded enough to think he can catch me and that if he does, he can bargain with the Triumvirate for whatever his heart desires, including sole command of the Centre."

"Sounds just like my dear brother," Ms. Parker said disdainfully. "He's mistaken his insanity for a mark of genius. The twisted little sociopath actually thinks he can trust the Triumvirate. Raines has been their lap dog for years, there's no way they'd just hand Lyle the Centre on a silver platter. He's going to have to take Raines out of the equation entirely. If Raines is dead, the Triumvirate would automatically transfer chairmanship to Lyle."

Jarod shook his head in disagreement. "That's plan B for him. Lyle doesn't like bullets, he never did. Murdering Raines goes against his profile. He likes things slow and painful. He'll play the chase with me for a while before he resorts to killing Raines."

"How long?" Ms. Parker asked distastefully as she returned her eyes to the window. "How long is the chase going to last this time? Lyle's stubborn; he won't give up easily. How long will you play the game with him?" Her voice had become soft again.

"He's not as closely matched an adversary as you, but no, I don't expect he will give up easily or quickly." Jarod had returned his eyes to the window as well. "I don't know how long it will take. It depends on when we begin to establish the new rules of our chase as well as the Centre's reaction time once they're in place and the game commences."

"They'll be less than thrilled to find out that their prized lab rat and one of their executive operatives are waging war with them. They won't play fair, no matter what kind of rules we set up," Ms. Parker said ruefully. "We're playing with fire, Jarod."

"I've always had a sweetheart deal with fire. Like a moth to a flame, so they say." Jarod's voice was grave. "Propelled to want that which I'm not allowed to have. They dangle a piece of my past in front of me and I come running. I suppose it's one of my tragic flaws, chasing after a past I can't ever have, fighting for a future I can't even comprehend." 

"It may be a future we won't want to comprehend. If we lose, it's all over, there are no second chances." Ms. Parker's voice was equally grave.

"We're still going to fight for it anyway. It must be some sadistic need of ours to search for stability in our lives." Jarod laughed sadly.

"It's better than not fighting at all. There's always a remote chance we'll win." Ms. Parker's voice was shallow. "If we don't try at all, we lose before it even starts."

"Admitting defeat before a battle is even fought," Jarod added. He slid Ms. Parker's hand off of the glass and into his own. The simple gesture helped to cement the newly forming bond of trust between the two of them. "It may be that I'm still searching for my past, walking into the same trap they always use to try and catch me, but walking away is just as dangerous as staying for the fight. I'd rather know I did the brave and noble thing than the cowardly, simple one.

"If we leave it will never end, but it has to. So we fight." His eyes looked into her eyes intently. "Ready?" he asked. 

Ms. Parker nodded and rose gracefully from her seat. Their hands remained clasped and for once, there was no temporary alliance, they'd fight the entire war, side by side. "Let's give 'em hell."

****

The dead silence of Sydney's office, and the SIM lab just outside, allowed the Centre to appear almost peaceful in the early morning hours. Yet, peaceful was a state of being that never occurred within Centre walls and thus, the air seemed more suffocating than anything. It was as though the stillness had swallowed any sounds that could have drifted through and threatened its hold on the room.

It almost seemed that the ever-present oppressive forces of the Centre had succeeded in stifling anything that could jeopardize the relative sanctity of their evil doings. And, as always, the voice which might move through and stand against them, throwing off the balance of their entire operation, was crushed. There were no lengths that the Centre wouldn't go to in order to maintain their sinister silence, including murder.

Nevertheless, it was remarkable how someplace so corrupt and immoral could, for a few rare hours in the very early morning, give off the illusion of tranquility. It was an illusion not only because of its false nature but because it marked the absence of people; the loneliness of a life held by a Centre employee was anything but tranquil. 

That very loneliness is what Sydney had awakened to as he slipped from the blissful relief of sleep back into wretched consciousness. He found himself in his office staring bleary eyed at the few pictures which adorned the cluttered workspace of his desk. 

Case files that he had spent the previous night looking over were scattered around among highlighters, pens and paper clips. The record on the phonograph in the corner of his office was spinning quietly, the music on that side of the LP having finished playing hours ago.

It wasn't a rarity to wake up under such circumstances. Sydney had grown used to falling asleep surrounded by paperwork. While listening to the gentle tones of Soft Jazz and Blues, French lullabies and Classical ballads, he would drift off into the comforting arms of sleep. The reports on his various subjects and studies would be forgotten. The psychological profiles that he had to continually make for Jarod's latest pretends, regarding their implications on his psyche, would no longer plague his conscience. 

For a short time, he could escape from the prison he had created for himself and enter a soothing world of forgiveness that was not present in consciousness. Sleep provided his only refuge from the hell he'd made. 

During waking hours, the past haunted him. The constant pursuit of Jarod was a reminder of the little boy he had failed, as well as the brother and dear friend he had disgraced by continuing his allegiance with the Centre. He had allowed himself to become brethren with the same people who had stolen the lives of his loved ones and, in that act, allowed them to steal his life as well. 

Most of the time, all he felt was numbness. A dead feeling in the very core of his being. Though, there were those few bright minutes every now and then when he could hear Jarod's voice and know that his protégé was alive and well. Those precious phone conversations brightened his mood to no end. At times, he feared, perhaps they affected his mood too much. If the Centre ever realized how much more than a science project the pretender had become to him, it would not end well.

When he had first escaped, Sydney had felt that the ties between Jarod and the Centre were strong enough to bring Jarod back, but the ongoing chase proved that feeling to be very wrong. It was quiet obvious that the Centre needed Jarod far more than he needed them.

Now, Jarod was out righting wrongs and helping the people he felt he had harmed over the years through his various simulations. At first, Sydney had felt it to be a misguided action, but as time wore on, he realized Jarod was doing the work he himself should have been doing…the work Catherine and Jacob had wanted him to do.

Perhaps it was too late now, but Jarod's escape had finally shed light into Sydney's otherwise dark life. The subsequent years had brought Sydney's turning point and retribution into view. Jarod's forgiveness was something worth fighting for and that was the first thing he needed to liberate himself from the Centre's hold. Atoning his actions was the only way to prove his loyalty to Jarod.

He had, on various occasions, disregarded his orders for the escaped pretender. A bullet in Raines' oxygen tank and a bomb in SL 27 stood testament to the fact, but it seemed those actions weren't quiet enough to regain his position in Jarod's life. There was trust between them, that much was obvious, but the friendship Sydney sought had not been offered yet. 

Generally they played shrink to each other. Sydney would help solve one of Jarod's problems, and Jarod would help solve one of his. Slowly, they were building a bridge, beginning to come to terms with the fact that, despite all of the animosity between them recently, they were a small dysfunctional family.

In the past, Sydney had denied any emotional attachments to the pretender, but it was solely for Jarod's safety…and his. If the Centre had realized that Sydney loved Jarod as a son, they would have remove Jarod from his care and heaven knows what terrible things would have been done to him. To protect Jarod, Sydney had lied to his face.

Still, it was the little things they had shared that tied them together. Learning how to tie a tie, learning to shave, even a father's day card that he had been forced to dispose of in the pretender's presence but had later fished out of the trashcan. In every emotional way, Sydney would always be Jarod's father.

The familial bonds between them were stronger than the simple bonds of teacher and student. They always had been and continued to be so, hopefully without the Centre's notice. Ms. Parker suspected, at times, that Jarod was more than a lab rat to him, but as time wore on, she had kept those feelings to herself because he would counter that Jarod was more than a lab rat to her as well.

Of course, Ms. Parker was a different story. In ways, she was his surrogate daughter. He had cared for her mother deeply and promised to take care of the young girl if something should happen to her mother. As was usual of the Centre, something did, and Catherine Parker was murdered.

For a time, it was considered a suicide, and hurt Ms. Parker deeply, causing her to withdraw from all but her closest friends and family. At that point in time, she spoke only to her father Sydney, Jarod and Timmy. However, her father felt the attachments she had to the Centre's science projects were unhealthy and she had been torn from them as well. She was shipped off to boarding school in Europe and Asia and several years passed before Sydney saw her again.

When Ms. Parker had returned, she was not the same sweet, wide-eyed, innocent little girl. Her father had managed to create a split image of himself in her, cold and powerful. Yet, she looked identical to her mother and somewhere underneath the icy façade, the little girl still lived.

The grown up Ms. Parker stalked around in short skirts and high heels, which Sydney could only see as a desperate cry for attention. She may have acted menacing, but he knew she was still seeking the same approval she always did. Working at the Centre was testament to the fact that she would go to any ends in order to please her father, including selling her soul to the very place that stole her mother's life.

When Jarod had escaped, she had been assigned to the pursuit team with Sydney and he had gotten reacquainted with her. On a few rare occasions, he could see the little girl he knew, staring out through her eyes, but he had formed a new bond, of sorts, with the older austere Ms. Parker.

As time wore on, her façade fell a little each week. Perhaps it was the constant discoveries about her past that Jarod led her to, or maybe she was just tired of keeping up appearances, but slowly, the ice queen she tried to project simply melted away. 

The theory had gone that, because Ms. Parker and Jarod had been childhood friends, she would understand him better and thus track him easier. When the chase began she had been dead set on dragging Jarod back to the Centre by any and every means necessary, but time brought with it a subtle change of heart.

Ms. Parker had started to realize the same thing Sydney had, Jarod was out in the world doing her work, the work her mother died doing. Each new clue from Jarod brought her a little closer to her past and ove rtime, a slender thread of trust had been created between the huntress and her prey. Now, her relationship with the pretender was nearly as complicated as Sydney's.

As Jarod had opened her eyes, Sydney had regained a place in Ms. Parker's heart as well, and considered her just as much his daughter as he considered Jarod his son. Ever watchful of their safety, he kept up appearances with her as well. From the Centre's point of view, everything should seem strictly professional, but in every way that counted he was a vigilant father figure to her. He often warned her against the habit she had of drinking alcohol and smoking cigarettes, and even though she grumbled at him, he knew she was glad to have someone around who cared enough to worry over her health. In fact the kindness had been repaid when Sydney himself had gone on a rare drinking binge.

Ms. Parker took care of Sydney in her own awkward way, keeping him from shooting shadows from his past and helping with his ill twin brother. Despite the Centre's interference, Ms. Parker, Jarod and Sydney had formed a small, relatively dysfunctional, family unit.

Sydney's eyes adjusted to the room as he wiped the sleep from them. Waking up facing the framed pictures of Catherine and Jacob, as well as copies of Ms. Parker and Jarod's photos, which he had pulled out of his desk the night before, made him feel oddly as though he were surrounded by his actual family members.

His thoughts had propelled through what had happened to them in the past few years, as he fully woke to the disquieting silence of his office and the SIM lab.

The stillness of the room was common enough around the hour he had woken, but over three hours later the silence was still present and Sydney looked up from his work wondering where Broots and Ms. Parker were.

"C'est étrange." Sydney muttered. "Where are Miss Parker and Broots?" 

It was unlike either of them to have not arrived by nine thirty. By now, Broots would have come bumbling in complaining about the traffic on the way to dropping of Debbie for school in the morning. Ms. Parker would have followed shortly after, either recovering from a hangover or another night of insomnia, with a cup of coffee in hand, and shot menacing remarks at the jittering techie while trying to unsettle Sydney's quite demeanor.

The lack of their company made his office and the SIM lab all that much more unsettling in their continued silence. Maybe he should call to see where they were. No, they were most likely just running a bit late. Perhaps Broots was caught in traffic, and perhaps Miss Parker had finally gotten some much-needed rest. He'd just wait a little longer.

Author's Note: Ms. Parker and Jarod's section ended up being rather short, purely by accident. I hadn't initially intended to bring Sydney into this chapter but his section just popped into my head. Standard rewrite counts apply… Thanks for reading! Love Ya!


	6. All Stable Things Had Become Shadowy, Pa...

Disclaimer: I don't own the Pretender…despite any delusions my current Pez high has given me. Would you like a Pez? The characters are not mine and I'm not making any money out of spending hours of my day obsessing over them. In the event that you feel like suing me for using the characters, I will merely plead insanity due to overconsumption of Pez. So again, I ask, would you like a Pez?

Second Disclaimer: I liked my first one so much, I though I'd write another…not really. The **_bolded and italicized_ lines are from William Faulkner's "The Sound and the Fury." Those of you who know of the book will understand the lack of grammar in the passage I've borrowed. If you are unacquainted with it, my apologies for its confusing nature. My copy of the book is the Vintage International version, if the text is wrong in any way I blame it on them…**

Summary: Lyle frames Ms. Parker for murder and guess who comes along as the local sheriff, that's right, Jarod. Will Parker finally allow him to free her from her prison, both literally and figuratively? Post IOTH.

**Behind Bars**

By Bec-Bec

The Sixth Little Chapter

**All Stable Things Had Become Shadowy, Paradoxical**

Sydney sat in his office trying, unsuccessfully, to divert his attention from the passing time. He was becoming worried. When the clock rounded on ten a.m. his apprehension grew. Eventually his surreptitious glances turned into full on staring. Combined with the uncomfortable silence in the room, the chorus of ticks and tocks echoed tauntingly in the dead air. The Centre had never made him feel quite so uneasy before.

Generally, Sydney was accustomed to the lonely silence, but something about this silence hinted at an underlying malice. The enmity floating in the air swept through to every nerve ending in his body, tensing his muscles. Something was going on and it wasn't something pleasant.

It was unusual for either Broots or Ms. Parker to be running this late. If something were delaying either of them, they would have called by now to explain their truancy.

Though their presence would hardly be missed by the rest of the Centre's employees, they generally had the decency to inform Sydney that they would not be coming in. Without that common civility, he was led to believe that something horrible had become of them, which was not a farfetched idea, considering where they worked.

In truth, neither Broots nor Ms. Parker had much reason to come to the Centre. Jarod's lack of communication had left them little to work on.  And, while Sydney's attentions had turned to his other projects and experiments, Ms. Parker and Broots had no alternative pursuits to occupy their time. Most of their working hours were spent keeping tabs on Lyle's activities. But, regardless of the current deficiency of leads to work on, they should have realized Sydney would worry about their well being if they forgot to notify him of their absence.

Their oversight caused anxiety to grip his thoughts. The likelihood of their imperilment was far greater than their suddenly having forgotten to inform him that they would not be arriving today. Nevertheless, he didn't want to jump to conclusions before he was entirely sure they were not coming.

Staring at the clock, for what seemed the millionth time, Sydney watched as another minute moved by slowly and then collapsed upon itself, allowing yet another minute to begin. Eventually, he attempted to focus his attention back on the work scattered across his desk. However, his concentration was not employed there for long as his thoughts again began to argue that something was wrong.

There was something out of place. This sudden lack of activity and discomforting stillness had a deadly undertone. 

Silence was always a forced entity at the Centre, and generally one caused by brutal coercion. Sydney could only recall one other time the Centre had been this hushed…after the apparent "death" of Catherine Parker.

There had been calamity and disorder for a few minutes immediately following the gunshots, but within the hour, a choking silence had fallen on the building. Young Ms. Parker's screams had been calmed, Jarod had been returned to his room, sweepers had removed the lifeless body, and Mr. Parker had retreated to his office. All that was left was a distressing, fraudulent calm. That same false tranquility had settled on the Centre now as well. 

Catatonia seemed to have fallen throughout the building, not just in Sydney's office and the SIM lab. It had rendered the Centre momentarily paralyzed in the wake of some dreadful occurrence, or as foreshadowing of some terrible thing yet to come.

The sudden onslaught of suffocating air left Sydney in limbo. He was in a place of oblivion where his conscience and his mind were waging war. 

There were feelings inside of him which argued that something was very, very wrong and that if he didn't do anything about it, someone he cared for would ultimately be in great danger. But, equally strong were the feelings which had kept him inactive in the past. 

Standing against the Centre was dangerous and would result in the same fate that Catherine and Jacob had met…death. 

But death wasn't what scared him, it was the fact that, if the Centre put out a termination order on him, he could no longer help Jarod, Ms. Parker, Broots, and Angelo in the same manner as he had for the last few years. His quiet and undetected protection of their welfare would be removed and the Centre might do something dire and ultimately murderous to each of them. 

He would sacrifice his soul to the devil before he would allow any of them to receive another fatal blow to their lives. They'd already lost so much; there was no way he could facilitate the further destruction of what little they had left. However, always arguing back were thoughts that his inactivity could also lead to further pain for them.

If he did not fight against the Centre's control of his life, and allowed himself to be submissive, he would be an accessory to all of the terrible things they had done and would continue to do. He would be permitting them to harm people when he knew he had it in his power to help stop them. In that act, he would be doing his family the greatest injustice of all.

Though he would willingly give up his freedom for theirs, he could not do so at the cost of more innocent blood. Jarod had spent his time outside of the Centre saving lives and, as much as Sydney would like to live blindly, in order to save the Pretender's own life, he could not counteract Jarod's work by adding more sins to both of their consciences. Jarod would never forgive Sydney if his own life were held above others. Which brought Sydney back to his current situation.

In staying silent to protect Ms. Parker and Broots, he may actually be causing more harm to come to them. If they were in danger, he needed to act, and his present indecision needed to be resolved. This silent acquiescence and inactivity would accomplish nothing but their further endangerment. 

The continual ticking of the clock made Sydney painfully aware of how much time was passing while he remained in a state of inertia. He was caught in a still void of uncertainty where inaction was as dangerous as action and time moved by in loud jeering clicks.

The dreadful silence seemed to mix with his thoughts and memories, swirling into the emptiness, accented with the passing time. Together, they all stirred up his duties- to the Centre, to Broots, to Ms. Parker, to Jarod…to himself- and threatened to strangle him as they all contradicted each other.

It was frightfully reminiscent of the ramblings of a neurotic character in a Faulkner story that had been haunted by the scent of honeysuckle and the damp smell of twilight when he tried to sleep. Sydney stared wearily around his office and the SIM lab outside as the passage he had paralleled with his state of mind reverberated through his thoughts **_"…I seemed to be lying neither asleep nor awake looking down a long corridor of gray half light where all stable things had become shadowy paradoxical all I had done shadows all I had felt suffered taking visible form antic and perverse mocking without relevance inherent themselves with the denial of the significance they should have affirmed thinking I was I was not who was not was not who."_**

Sydney sighed deeply, held precariously between becoming part of the silence itself and breaking its iron grip on the room…the Centre…his life. He was teetering on the edge, between the passive muteness he'd fallen back on in the past and a chance for the retribution he'd been searching for; between madness and sanity.

The room continued its deceptive tranquility, seeming to know more than it wanted to tell and yet, there was an easily apparent bitter anger and rage, just below the surface, waiting to strike and prove that Sydney would do nothing to stop it. Sydney was grasped within its midst as an endless dance of images from the past and present, and possible future, flitted before him. All he'd had before; all he'd lost; all he had to regain. His childhood; Jarod, Ms. Parker and Angelo's childhoods; his adulthood; their adulthood; what he'd suffered; what they'd suffered; what he'd lost; what they'd lost. 

The emotions welling up inside of him, as his thoughts bombarded him, were as choking as the silence they permeated.

As every new second resonated through the air, it was accompanied by a memory, shaking Sydney to his core and making him lean farther toward opposition and away from any slender thread of loyalty still tying him to the Centre. The fight was growing inside of him, building beneath his chest and spurring his heartbeat. It felt like an epic moment as his resolve grew and his heavy breathing broke the silence, standing against the clock and its endless stream of time past.

It was almost as if a fever he hadn't known he had suddenly broke and the fever dreams could end. The odd mixtures of memories, blurred and twisted by hallucinations, stopped parading around, trying to provoke him into action. Their work was completed and they could leave him in peace now that he was determined to do as they willed him.

A gentle calm fell over Sydney. His office no longer felt stifling and oppressive but hollow and small. The mere act of decision within his soul made the rest of the Centre seem less imposing. It was still dangerous, yes, but its grip had been loosened- barely, but loosened none the less. It no longer had the power to restrain Sydney in the manner it had before.

He sat, motionless, marveling at how quiet the clock's ticks seemed now. His heart quieted down as well, as though it knew it had finally won the eternal battle over his mind. He was leaving. But not until he discovered what had become of Ms. Parker and Broots.

Even with his mind decided upon departing the Centre, his heart still bore the weight of worry. He needed to find them and make sure they were safe before he could begin any plans to escape. He had to rescue them from whatever the Centre had done to them…and there was only one person he could trust to help him do so…

He needed Jarod.

****

Ms. Parker sank back in the car seat as soon as she saw the road sign announcing their departure from Blue Cove. Some part of her hadn't really believed that she and Jarod could leave without something going wrong and preventing them from escaping the cursed little town. Cynicism was a way of life when the Centre was involved and had often claimed Ms. Parker's thoughts. 

After having the people closest to her snatched away, and all remnants of a normal life corrupted, it was to be expected that she was often filled with pessimism. Yet, here she was, crossing the barrier between Centre prisoner and Centre fugitive, taking a piece of the freedom they'd stolen from her…taking back control of her life.

The muscles in her back released some of their tension as the sign loomed close and then passed by. She would have gotten out and shot bullet holes at the damn thing if she weren't so tired, instead she just stared at it defiantly, jeering it with every atom of her being. Blue Cove, the Centre, and the Triumvirate could all go to hell. She and Jarod would make the rules from now on

Finally relaxing, she leaned her head against the car window and stared out pensively.

Jarod studied Ms. Parker through the corner of his eye. He was not often allowed such a quiet and close view of her.

He could see the carefree, inquisitive little girl he'd grown up with, and, at the same time, the stunning, but troubled, intelligent woman she'd become. It was amazing to him how the two parts of her personality had been at war with each other for so long but still managed to slip into a beautiful harmony when she allowed them to. 

Sitting there with her head pressed against the window, deep in thought, Ms. Parker was the most exquisite creature he'd ever seen. Passionate and intimidating, yet inviting at the same time.

As his huntress, her tenacity mixed with her sharp, quick nature had made her a closely matched opponent. She had often been a lot closer than she'd thought she was, missing him by mere minutes. Though her skills as a pretender were untrained, she was cunning and had proven so on various occasions.

On the other side of the coin was his best friend. Enthusiastic and always curious, just like him, but with a slightly reckless edge. If there was a small possibility of danger, she was often more likely to chase after whatever she was searching for. She strove to achieve what she wanted and rarely failed. She was strong and bold, but tender, underneath her layers of carefully placed walls of frost.

Jarod had often wondered how she managed to maintain two such conflicting natures. True, her grown up, abrasive temperament was called upon far more often than her gentle, precocious one, but that little girl was always there, inside of her. Today, he had gotten his fullest glimpse of her in a long time. His best friend was still there; she had just been placed on ice, for a time, so that she was protected from getting hurt. 

Ms. Parker was a beautiful blend of lights and darks that complimented each other, fusing, to create the astounding woman she was. In Jarod's mind, there was nothing that could make her more striking than she already was.

A soft yawn escaped Ms. Parker's lips and Jarod's mouth curled into a soft grin.

"It's okay to sleep, you know. Believe me, sleep deprivation is highly overrated," Jarod said gently.

Ms. Parker laughed lightly as she looked up at Jarod. "Spoken from an expert to and expert." She turned back to window and spoke softly. "I can't even remember the last time I had a decent night's sleep. There's always something interrupting, the phone, Lyle, the Centre, nightmares, insomnia…everything. Just when I think I'm finally going to get some rest, things shift and even the smallest bit of stability in my life is thrown off kilter."

"I know," Jarod sighed with complete understanding. He continued reassuringly, "But, there's nothing to interrupt you here and you should really get some sleep."

Ms. Parker was silent for a moment. "I doubt sleep would make me any less tired. It's not the type of exhaustion that a few hours of sleep suddenly alleviates."

Again, Jarod sighed with empathy. "I know. It's the type of tired that plagues you, works it's way right through your bones to your very core. However, if you don't give your body the recuperation it needs at the end of the day, it will only get worse. Your immune system will weaken and you could get very ill."

Ms. Parker scoffed. "Thank you for your brilliant diagnosis, Dr. Jarod, but I already knew that." Softening her voice again, Ms. Parker continued, "I appreciate your concern, Jarod, but I won't be able to sleep until there's a little more distance between us and the Centre."

Jarod nodded, she watched the reflection on the glass of the window.

"Just promise me you'll consider your health. The lack of sleep isn't good for your ulcer either," Jarod stated informally. "You should lay off of coffee and alcohol until your body has recovered and try not to skip any meals."

Ms. Parker grimaced. "Thanks for the nutritional advice, I'll keep it in mind."

Jarod narrowed his eyes as he glanced at her for a moment, trying to read whether she was serious or not. He turned his eyes back to the road before saying anything. "I'm glad you're keeping it under advisement."

A road sign alerted Ms. Parker to the fact that they were now exiting the Dover city limits. More of the tension eased its way out of her body.

Jarod noticed how Ms. Parker's stance softened some more but not completely. "You're worried."

"I'm sure Lyle will realize that I'm not in jail anymore, soon, and he'll have sweepers all over Delaware, if he doesn't already, " Ms. Parker said scornfully. "The slimy bastard will be seeking my head on a platter. Pardon me for feeling troubled by that fact."

"Lyle can't kill you, Parker. I don't think he even wants to. If he were seeking your death, he wouldn't have bothered framing you for murder. He just wanted you out of the way," Jarod reasoned.

"You think our twisted little sociopath wouldn't suddenly change his mind? There is no right and wrong in his world. To him, killing me is the same as slicing up a potato. Lyle's a wild card, an unpredictable element. Your profiling wouldn't hold on him" Ms. Parker reasoned back.

Jarod shook his head. "Lyle follows certain patterns and there are set steps he takes when he's out to murder, or even just to torture. It's one of his faults. He likes things neat and orderly. He's not about to suddenly drop that need for organization. He has an obsessive compulsive approach to his murdering techniques and that limits what he can and cannot do."

Ms. Parker was silent for a moment and then laughed bitterly. "Obsessive compulsive, murdering, cannibalistic, sociopaths. I'm surprised he and Cox, aren't brothers. But, then again, you never know with the Centre." She shuddered at the thought of having yet another crazed blood relative.

Jarod watched her quietly out of one eye. "You're still worried."

"It's habit, Jarod. Can you honestly tell me that you're not worried as well?" Ms. Parker questioned.

"No," Jarod answered. "We've spent our lives being watched, tracked, followed; it's natural that we'd be skeptical to think we're not still under those circumstances, especially when chances are the circumstances are still the same. However, I don't think that you should allow that worry to keep you from getting some rest. You can't stay awake and alert forever, Parker. Trust me, you can sleep safely here."

Ms. Parker let out a long weary sigh. "If I try to sleep will you let me be?"

"Yes."

"No phone calls?" Ms. Parker questioned with a serious face, as she raised an eyebrow.

"No phone calls." Jarod stated firmly with a half smile. "Now get some shut eye."

"If something happens, Jarod, I'm blaming it on you," Ms. Parker said pointedly.

Jarod chuckled. "I would expect nothing less."

"Good," Ms.Parker hissed. Tilting the seat back a little, she closed her eyes. "And don't do anything stupid." 

Jarod just smiled, as Ms. Parker willed the thoughts parading in her head to slow down or go away. Eventually the car lulled her into sleep.

As they passed the Delaware state-line into Pennsylvania, she was still slumbering silently, and Jarod smiled softly at her. The huntress and the little girl were at peace with one another.

Author's Note: Sydney's character is not my forte, so, constructive criticisms on how to portray his character would be readily appreciated. I'm glad that his portion of the text in the last chapter was so well received. "The Sound and the Fury" was included mostly because I am a literature junkie and I enjoy randomly dropping in sections of text from novels, you'll have to forgive me for that. Thanks for reading. Love Ya!


	7. The World Is Changing

Disclaimer: I don't own the Pretender…despite any delusions my current Pez high has given me. Would you like a Pez? The characters are not mine and I'm not making any money out of spending hours of my day obsessing over them. In the event that you feel like suing me for using the characters, I will merely plead insanity due to overconsumption of Pez. So again, I ask, would you like a Pez?

Second Disclaimer: I liked my first one so much, I though I'd write another…not really. Anyway, I've borrowed lines from the following episode of the Pretender: "FX." It should be noted that this episode is not mine. I never wrote it nor did I have anything to do with its development or creation. My apologies for using someone else's work. 

Summary: Lyle frames Ms. Parker for murder and guess who comes along as the local sheriff, that's right, Jarod. Will Parker finally allow him to free her from her prison, both literally and figuratively? Post IOTH.

Behind Bars

By Bec-Bec

The Seventhmost Chapter

****

The World Is Changing

It was late afternoon when Ms. Parker woke from her comfortable sleep and blinked her eyes open. The sun was low in the horizon and sent bright streaks of light through the windshield. Despite the cool time of year, the car was warm and cozy, exuding a genuine sense of safety. It was a strange and satisfying feeling, relaxing her body and causing a soft smile to grace her lips.

The peaceful silence of the car brought with it an inviting sense of certainty and tranquility that was not often present in her life. Things had a tendency to change radically and abruptly, and generally without her consent, making such assured moments a rarity. The few times that she had felt this sort of stability, had been either deceptive or

fleeting, leaving only the cold pessimism she had come to rely upon every day of her life.

With so little remaining constant in the past, she viewed the current change in circumstances warily but not without a small amount of tempered optimism. The further she and Jarod managed to travel without any hindrances from the Centre, the greater the possibility seemed that they wouldn't come across any. Even while past experience warned her that such moments of security never lasted long, she couldn't help but allow herself to be enveloped by the soothing atmosphere.

As the car gently hummed along, Ms. Parker began to understand exactly what Jarod had meant about not wanting to disturb the serenity of a moment. Talking would break the quiet spell that had fallen on the car and shift the temporary equilibrium. The new balance she was feeling would falter and the calm would slowly vanish, like dreams drifting away in the early morning between wakefulness and sleep. 

Inevitably she would be left with the same uncertainty and unreliability as usual. Even optimism couldn't prevent that eventual end. However, regardless of the unavoidable, she wouldn't end it any sooner than was necessary.

Allowing herself to savor the security she felt as long as possible, Ms. Parker lay still, absorbing her surroundings for later recollection.

Breathing deeply, but not sharp or loud enough to disturb the silence, she committed every aspect of her current situation to memory: the way the car rolled along smoothly without interruption; the way the sun angled just right to bathe the interior of the car in a temperate golden glow; the feeling that the car was warm but not hot or uncomfortable; how the air seemed to have mixed with an unfamiliar, but not unpleasant, scent… permeating the car with what she could only assume was Jarod's personal scent. Every observation served to further reinforce her feeling of total safety. 

The car had become a strange sort of sanctuary. Like her mother's study, she felt that she could let everything go here, that pretenses were unnecessary and would be easily seen through if they were employed. There were no illusions here, no lies.

With an odd, slow-growing clarity, she realized that the atmosphere of the car had come to resemble the bond between her and Jarod. It had absorbed all of the complex aspects that made their connection so intricate and so strong.

Their relationship had never been based on lies or deceit. Jarod was completely open with her, and as hard as she tried to seem indeterminate and ambiguous, Jarod had always been able to read her. That honesty had led to trust between them. 

However, their trust had not merely been born of honesty but, ultimately, of dependability. 

Neither one had ever inexplicably broken the rules of the chase to get an upper hand. They had evolved a certain balance and reliability within the realms of the chase, a range of acceptable actions.

Purposeful injury was never used to take advantage over one another. It was a violation of control that was not permissible in their game of cat and mouse. In fact, Ms. Parker could count on one hand the number of times she had attempted to shoot Jarod, never actually hitting her target. She had often threatened bodily harm, but never really inflicted any. Mind games were the preferred method of strike and both had used their fair share on each other. 

Psychological injury was a powerful weapon, and generally a common defense with each of them. They could both stand extreme amounts of physical pain, but if an assault was aimed at either of their consciences, that's when the cut was the deepest. 

Perhaps that knowledge of where to administer pain was what allowed them to hurt each other in ways no one else could. However, even that was a paradox because it also helped them to heal each other's pain in ways no one else could.

They had often found safety in one another when either of their lives were in utter chaos. The ability they had to comfort each other from a distance, and often without words, was yet another part of their relationship that was beyond comprehension, binding her and Jarod together in a complicated, interwoven companionship. 

As the sun loomed lower and lower in the horizon, Jarod's voice softly broke the silence. "Do you understand the value of a moment now?"

Ms. Parker remained still, not the least bit surprised that Jarod knew she'd been lying there awake for the last few minutes. 

Jarod took her continued silence as his answer and smiled softly, taking a quick glimpse at the rearview mirror to study her countenance. 

The contemplative look on Ms. Parker's face was almost serene and Jarod felt rewarded by the simplicity of it. The worry that had plagued her features before she fell asleep seemed to have vanished, replaced by a thoughtful calm that only served to further accent her already beautiful features.

Jarod had Ms. Parker's face imprinted on his mind as he reluctantly returned his eyes to the road.

The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon when Ms. Parker finally brought her seat back into an upright position.

"Did you rest well?" Jarod asked quietly.

"Considering that I was stretched out on a car seat, yes." She paused as a smile spread across her face. "Remarkably well in fact."

The corners of Jarod's mouth turned up when he saw Ms. Parker smile. "If it's worthy of a smile it must have been good. That particular expression isn't a common occurrence with you."

Ms. Parker's smile faltered and she became more serious. "I don't often have something worth smiling about."

Jarod was instantly sorry that he had caused her smile to fade. "It won't always be that way, Parker."

"I know." Ms. Parker valiantly tried to lift her smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes as it had before. "But it has been that way for an awfully long time. Who's to say it will actually change?"

"The world is changing," Jarod reminded her softly, quirking an eyebrow.

Ms. Parker laughed softly, "It is, isn't it." Her smile grew again. "So, Wonderboy, where are we headed?"

"Ms. Parker, are you familiar with the concept of a roadtrip?" Jarod asked with a wide grin.

Ms. Parker's eyebrows rose skeptically. "I thought we were supposed to be plotting the demise of the Centre. A trip to Mount Rushmore won't get that accomplished."

"Would you like to see Mount Rushmore, Ms. Parker? I've never been there." Jarod effectively dodged her question.

"Jarod," Ms. Parker started seriously, "avoiding the Centre forever won't get us anywhere."

"I'm not suggesting that we avoid them forever, I'm suggesting that we go on a celebratory trip commemorating your liberation from the Centre"

Ms. Parker narrowed her eyes in contemplation. "For how long?"

"However long you feel like. It's up to you." 

Ms. Parker continued to eye him skeptically.

"There are so many things I want to show you, Parker. So much out here for you to see." 

Jarod's face lit up when he realized she was giving in.

"Two weeks," Ms. Parker stated firmly, "then we begin our siege on the Centre."

Jarod nodded his agreement. "Two weeks."

"So, Wonderboy, where are we headed?" Ms. Parker repeated her previous question.

"Oh the places we could go…" Jarod answered half jokingly, half serious.

Ms. Parker just sighed and shook her head. "The world is changing." Then she broke out in a smile again. "Drive on Maestro."

****

Sometimes the tinkling of piano keys danced through Angelo's brain at night. The song he used to know, still present in his mind, only warped and twisted. Now it was just a sad harmony, off key and without a beauty it had once possessed. The chords weren't right, they didn't fit into the right cadence.

****

Twinkle… Twinkle…

It was a haunting melody, echoing and ringing in his head. Sometimes it sang, becoming angelic and sweet, before collapsing into a jagged, rough cacophony. Either way, light or dark, it taunted him because he couldn't remember how it went.

****

Twinkle… Twinkle…

The memories were still there, he just couldn't piece them all together. They ran in fragments, some more prominent at times, while others faded into the background, and then they'd switch, or some would stay and some would vanish, only to resurface later.

They danced apart and crashed together, but they couldn't form a chain of events; a train of thought; couldn't match up; couldn't find the right notes.

****

Twinkle…

He'd stare forlornly at his fingers, willing them to know, grasping at the air as if the thread of memories was just out of reach, hiding in the darkness. But it wasn't there, and he couldn't ever get a hold of it because it simply didn't exist. It wasn't tangible, lurking in the shadows…no, other things hid there. 

Pain and sadness, hurt, anger, hate, death, emptiness, rage, sorrow. They all swelled up and filled the air around him, crowding in on him and filling his lungs. They pushed the incomplete memories even further away, consuming his entire being until all he could feel, hear, taste, touch, see, was the story they tried to tell him. And then, he wasn't him, or he was, but without any of his own thoughts and feelings.

The sudden swirl of emotions would block out what little still belonged to Angelo, and then it was all gone, even the inconstant piano music.

But when they all faded away again, when some resolution was reached, or something came along to hold them all in again, they'd slide back into the murky corners. Angelo would close his eyes and they'd all slip away, riding indecisions and blank results in waves, hiding with the lost memories like the phantasms they were. And he'd be Angelo again…or Timmy…Or Angelo…or Timmy.

****

Twinkle…

When the feelings weren't crashing in on him, he tried to focus on the frames of memories currently residing in his mind; the small pictures that he could recall at that point in time, before they vanished the next day and didn't return for weeks or months. Though time itself was hardly conceivable, he hated how the images took so long to come back. 

He could vaguely tell the time of day, some biological clock having settled in his brain over the years, but it wasn't constant. Some hours were counted out shorter than others, and some longer. What he couldn't tell were the passing of weeks and months and years.

The concept of aging was there, but how long it took for such changes to occur to people or if they happened slow and gradually were incomprehensible things to him. 

He knew that Jarod looked older every time he saw him. He knew that Ms. Parker had changed from the little girl who had given him his first box of Cracker Jacks. He could see the wrinkle lines set in on Sydney's face. He knew he had looked different when he saw his reflection for the first time in a long while a few years ago. He could even tell that he no longer slid through the air ducts as easily and quickly as he once had, taking up more space than before and finding it more difficult to crouch down. But, when exactly the changes happened, he didn't know. The only thing he knew for sure was that he was no longer Timmy, and that's why he tried to remember whom exactly Timmy was.

__

"There is no Timmy anymore. From now on, he's to be called Angelo."

****

Timmy's gone.

He knew Timmy was gone. He had felt it for a long time, but the DSA always reminded him. And then there was the image, the electrodes and the flashing lights. He remembered the sizzle when he saw the picture again; how it felt to have the electricity vibrating through his body. The little hairs on his skin seemed to stand up in prickly patches with a life of their own, and then the shivers when it stopped. The way the searing pain filled his body. He remembered Catherine coming and trying to soothe him, but he couldn't talk, he couldn't respond at all. He just sat and quivered.

__

"What are you gonna do with Timmy now?"

****

Timmy's gone.

He remembered curling up in a ball after seeing the DSA every time. He saw Ms. Parker, Sydney and Broots as they watched what had happened to Timmy. He could see how Ms. Parker came and sat down with him. He remembered feeling that she had known who he was, that she had realized he was her friend when they were small. She was sad. Ms. Parker was always sad, but at that moment, she was sad for him. He could feel the sympathy coming from her, see the regret in her eyes. She knew.

****

Timmy's gone.

And then the memories would slip away and the thrashing piano would come back, until it slowed to a soft note and a pause and then another soft note. It always came back to the piano, equally relieving and unsettling at the same time.

****

Twinkle… Twinkle…

The crescendo returned, as he lay in his space, staring at the ceiling. The images were spinning around through his mind until they stopped abruptly, as though they had hit a wall and suddenly ricocheted away from him. It was a familiar abrupt clarity that only occurred right before the sudden onslaught of emotion his empath abilities picked up on.

Replacing the ringing pictures, the feelings suddenly flooded his mind. It was an intense sensation that started with a little tickle in his brain, and then suddenly an overload of emotions crowded everything out. 

At first he couldn't keep them under control enough to read what they were, and was pinned to his cot with his eyes squeezed tightly shut as they thrashed violently through him. Some of the feelings were fiercely conflicting and struggled to take over the others. One would come in clear for a moment, only to be overpowered by another.

Grappling to hold the emotions together long enough to determine whom they were coming from, Angelo finally found their source and sprung off of the cot with a furious growl. His lips curled in a vicious bloodthirsty manner and his mouth and nose twitched menacingly.

****

Power… Want Power…

The adverse feelings rapidly turned around and Angelo curled up in a corner whimpering. He balled himself into a fetal position, cowering from a rage and hatred that only he could feel.

****

Pain… Hurt…

Like a seesaw, the emotions bounced back and forth, and Angelo kept pace with every change, reacting to their strange contradiction. 

****

Rage…

Fear…

Hate…

Sadness…

Hours later, they flitted away as fast as they had arrived, and left Angelo in silence for a moment as he struggled to understand what they meant and whom they were focused at. Fortunately, the rough piano ballad maintained its absence, allowing Angelo to toil with the uneven feelings without its annoying presence.

For the majority of the morning, he had been experiencing the emotional upheaval of Mr. Lyle, whose jumbled subconscious was as severely inconstant as the man himself. The strange confusion within Lyle's mind was incredibly strong, which was presumably the reason Angelo had picked up on it without being near him or touching something relating to him. Lyle's own turmoil only added to Angelo's confusion. With such opposing sentiments fresh in his mind, Angelo emulated Mr. Lyle to the best of his abilities.

Lyle had always been unpredictable, which made him a hard read for Angelo. But, he was also a dangerous man, and, if one of Angelo's friends was about to receive Mr. Lyle's fury, it was necessary to discover whom his hatred was focused toward.

At first, it seemed as though Lyle's ill will was centered on Ms. Parker, but then it appeared to be concentrated on Broots, and then, finally, on Mr. Raines.

****

Raines. Hate Raines.

The anger toward Raines was undoubtedly the strongest. As though to reinforce the fact, Angelo's face twitched again with the horrible smile it held before.

****

Raines. Hate Raines.

If Mr. Raines was the main recipient of Lyle's anger, Angelo wondered why Ms. Parker and Broots were also held under his wrath. 

Immense confusion fell upon him, fueled mostly by confusion within Lyle's own head.

Angelo had little control over his own impulses in this state, but he knew that something was undoubtedly wrong. That thought caused him to search out someone who might be able to help.

****

Sydney. Find Sydney.

However, Sydney wasn't anywhere nearby. Angelo's brow wrinkled as his brain realized that the psychiatrist was not in the Centre anymore. It seemed Angelo would have to deal with the situation on his own.

Author's Note: Sorry about the wait on this one. I've been on what I like to call "writing hiatus" which is just a fancy term for, "I had writer's block." Anyway, this chapter is finally finished. Opinions on Angelo's section would be appreciated, as he's rather difficult to write for. Thanks for reading! Love Ya! bec_bec@earthlink.net

Five weeks worth of writing hiatus, and the next chapter's finally here. Sorry about the wait, writer's block was running rampant for awhile, but it left long enough to piece this together.


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